them now,’ the squire grumbled. ‘I am at a complete loss over what to do. We seem to be a regular mark. I can’t imagine why we’ve been singled out.’ The man sighed heavily in exasperation.
Because you’re an easy target, Brandon mused uncharitably. Out loud he remarked, ‘Do you still have that same night watchman? I say change the watchman and the nightly routine and The Cat won’t be so eager to come around.’
‘Or, we catch that criminal and put an end to the need for night watchmen altogether,’ Squire Bradley said with an uncustomary vehemence. ‘The only house that hasn’t been hit is yours.’ The squire seemed to sense he had crossed an invisible line. This might be the country, but respect was still respect. He gave a cough to cover his embarrassment. ‘Begging your pardon, my lord.’
Brandon glossed over the breach of social politeness and his opportunity to confess the events of the prior evening. ‘As I said, patrols and quality watchmen will go far as a deterrent to crime.’ He found it interesting to learn The Cat had hit another house after leaving. His valet had not found anything else missing from his rooms, only an irritating lack of order.
The rooms had been thoroughly disturbed, but nothing more. There were other valuable items to steal such as gold cufflinks, diamond cravat pins and pocket watches. His clothes alone would bring considerable funds for a thief intent on converting stolen goods to cash.
Jewellery and fine garments in their original states wouldn’t do much for the people The Cat professed to helping. But if the stolen items could be sold and changed to pounds, her mission would be successful without giving the authorities anything to track. Brandon made a mental note; it would be useful to work out where or to whom The Cat sold her goods. No one was truly invisible.
‘Well, I am done with such guarded measures. The sooner that menace is caught, the safer we’ll all be.’ The Squire huffed. ‘That’s the other reason why I’m here. I want you to help me start looking for him. We’ve been passive too long. Now that you’ve arrived, we can take direct action.’
Brandon drank from his coffee cup and set it down before answering. ‘I mentioned last night that I am as eager as anyone else to see the matter settled. However, I am not sure where to start. We don’t know what this person looks like. Did your watchman catch a glimpse of the intruder?’ It wasn’t exactly a lie. They both didn’t know what the thief looked like, only he knew.
‘We know he must be from around here, because he has knowledge of upper-class homes,’ the Squire countered, showing more intelligence than Brandon had previously given him credit for.
‘Is there anyone new in the neighbourhood since these robberies began?’
The Squire thought for a moment. ‘That’s the one drawback with progress. Since we’ve been planning for that textile factory, there have been lots of new men in the area—workers, supervisors, architects, engineers, investors, the whole gamut.’
‘If it’s too difficult to think of new people, think of a motive,’ Brandon suggested, shifting in his chair. The sooner the Squire was placated or given the illusion of action, the sooner he’d leave and Brandon could get on with his day, something he desperately needed to do. Talking about The Cat was creating an interesting side effect in his nether regions. ‘Who would have reason to rob certain wealthy homes while leaving other potential homes untouched? Perhaps someone is not happy about the factory and believes it will cost people their jobs?’ Brandon shamelessly hypothesised, borrowing liberally from The Cat’s argument the prior night. He hoped to plant the idea firmly in the Squire’s head.
‘That’s ridiculous. There isn’t anyone who believes that kind of nonsense!’ the Squire blustered, nonplussed by the very idea. ‘Why, that sort of thinking is not English!’
Bradley’s intelligence quotient fell back a notch. Brandon schooled his features to hide his disbelief. Surely the man didn’t believe the issues that had sparked Peterloo twelve years ago had actually been resolved? If anything, the intervening years had created a stronger, better-organised working class.
The coming of widespread industrialisation had changed everything, including the need for different representation in Parliament—the very issue he’d been debating when the message had arrived in London regarding the burglaries. No wonder Bradley was having trouble coming up with motives. The poor man couldn’t fathom the political realities of the day.
Brandon returned to his previous suggestion. ‘Perhaps names would be the best place to start after all.’
The Squire leaned forward, frustration evident in his tone. ‘My lord, I don’t think you understand. Your suggestions are theoretically sound. However, there haven’t been any newcomers who’ve taken up long-term residence in Stockport-on-the-Medlock recently except for the investors from London.’
Brandon raised his eyebrows. ‘None beyond that? I find it unlikely since all the expansion in Manchester has put the outskirts of the city a mere five miles from the town. I would have expected other hangers-on to be arriving in order to capitalise on the new economies that will be opening up.’
Bradley fidgeted. Aha, Brandon thought. There was someone. ‘We mustn’t discount anyone, Squire,’ he encouraged.
‘Well, it’s just that the newcomers seem highly unlikely suspects.’ Bradley drew a deep breath. ‘The vicar’s new since you’ve been here, but he’s a man you’ve personally appointed so there’s no point in looking that direction. The new industrialists in town have nothing to gain from committing robberies against themselves. In fact, their homes have been hit the hardest.’
‘Out with it, man,’ Brandon urged, sensing the Squire was holding back. ‘Is there no one else?’
‘The only other newcomer isn’t a man at all, but a spinster, Miss Eleanor Habersham.’ Bradley shook his head as he said the name. ‘It’s hardly right to even bring the sweet lady’s name up in such a conversation. She’s quite a silly thing, although the ladies adore her. My wife is going for tea at her place this afternoon. Apparently, Miss Habersham serves the most delectable cakes. I have to take my wife’s word for it. The vicar and I both tried to call on her when she first arrived to be neighbourly, but she’ll have nothing to do with men. Men intimidate the poor dear, I suppose.’
‘Is that so? The woman sounds quite vulnerable to me,’ Brandon suggested, hoping to lead the Squire to a particular conclusion.
‘S’truth, she’s a shy lady on her own. I dare say she knows little about the ways of the world,’ the Squire agreed, appearing to mull the thought over for a moment before reaching a decision.
Brandon pushed his point. ‘It may be that Miss Habersham has nothing to do with the goings-on around the village, but there might be someone in her household who does. Perhaps someone in her employ has pulled the wool over her eyes and is committing these crimes behind her back.’ That scenario seemed most likely since the woman he’d encountered last night definitely didn’t look like a spinster or, for that matter, act like one.
The Squire seemed genuinely horrified at the possibility. ‘Oh the poor dear! I hadn’t thought of that. How awful for her to be in the midst of such danger and be completely unaware of her jeopardy. We must do something.’
Brandon had the Squire where he wanted him. Without an entrée, he could not insinuate himself into a ladies’ tea hosted by a painfully shy woman and not appear heavy handed. He needed the Squire to go with him and provide a casual introduction. ‘What’s our next step?’
‘Perhaps
