BLACKDOWN (a thriller and murder mystery) by D. M. Mitchell Page B
Authors: D. M. Mitchell
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man who left us all those years ago. You carry much bitterness within you.’
‘Time and events change us all,’ he said.
‘Do you wish to speak of things? I am a ready ear…’
He shook his head. ‘I must go and see my father.’
‘Don’t go with anger in your heart, Thomas. You must forgive him.’
‘The way he forgave me?’
‘You must understand, he lost someone very dear to him when he lost his wife, your mother. He has lost a son now. He is sad and alone and in ill health.’
‘Was I not dear to him, too? Was I not his son, too?’
‘Grief made him do to you what he did.’
Thomas Blackdown grunted his reply. The sound of the drummer in the street was still plain to hear. ‘I would turn around and get away from this place,’ he said. ‘It holds nothing for me now that Jonathan is dead. But it is because of him that I must stay to find out what it was that was causing him such concern. Perhaps it was linked to his death.’
‘I know what was troubling him, Thomas,’ he said. ‘It troubles your father still. I thought you might already know, so I did not broach the subject. It is such a sensitive issue.’
Blackdown turned to the man. Shook his head. ‘It is safe to assume I know nothing of what has been going on here.’
‘Then you are unaware of the accusations?’
‘It seems so,’ he said guardedly. ‘Accusations against whom?’
‘Against your father. He was accused of being a traitor to the country during the war with France. Certain damning documents were found that appeared to prove your father was spying for the French and was himself part of a group of would-be revolutionaries who planned to incite rebellion within the country and topple the monarchy. It was a very serious charge, as you can imagine, punishable by death. In any event, the papers proved false – or were deemed not to be sufficiently reliable enough to use as evidence against your father. The charges were dropped. But the damage was done.
The Blackdown name was dragged through the mud as he fought to clear himself of the charges, and the mud did not go away with the rather inconclusive finding of his innocence. Society shunned him and blackened the family name. Even the townsfolk began to hate him for being a spy and a lover of the French, in spite of there being no real proof he was either. So he vowed he would not rest until his name had been fully cleared. He threw vast sums of money at it, drew on some of the most expensive lawyers he could find to discover who would brand him a traitor in the first place, and to start legal proceedings against newspapers and individuals who openly denounced him, some of them being powerfully rich individuals too. He fights it still. It has almost bankrupted him but he will not let it go, though it makes him ill. He has had to sell possessions and vast amounts of land to finance his folly, for that’s what it has become. He has let his pride become his own little demon, and it sits on his shoulder and urges him on to ever foolish courses of action. The loss of your brother at the height of all this only makes him even more determined to drag those who would have ruined him through the mud, as they did to him. I have tried talking to him, but he does not take counsel from anyone, and if it carries on thus it will drive him into his grave before his time.’
Thomas Blackdown sighed heavily. ‘I did not know.’
Reverend Bole looked up at the gargoyle. ‘There is more than one way of savaging a man, Thomas,’ he said. ‘Your father had made many enemies, as men in such powerful positions do, and it appears they were waiting their turn in bringing him down. It is not good to be a member of the Blackdown family at this moment, Thomas.’
‘I don’t think it was ever good to be a member of the Blackdown family.’ He shook the man’s hand. ‘Thank you for your time, Reverend Bole. I will make my way to Blackdown Manor.’
‘Don’t judge him too harshly,
‘Time and events change us all,’ he said.
‘Do you wish to speak of things? I am a ready ear…’
He shook his head. ‘I must go and see my father.’
‘Don’t go with anger in your heart, Thomas. You must forgive him.’
‘The way he forgave me?’
‘You must understand, he lost someone very dear to him when he lost his wife, your mother. He has lost a son now. He is sad and alone and in ill health.’
‘Was I not dear to him, too? Was I not his son, too?’
‘Grief made him do to you what he did.’
Thomas Blackdown grunted his reply. The sound of the drummer in the street was still plain to hear. ‘I would turn around and get away from this place,’ he said. ‘It holds nothing for me now that Jonathan is dead. But it is because of him that I must stay to find out what it was that was causing him such concern. Perhaps it was linked to his death.’
‘I know what was troubling him, Thomas,’ he said. ‘It troubles your father still. I thought you might already know, so I did not broach the subject. It is such a sensitive issue.’
Blackdown turned to the man. Shook his head. ‘It is safe to assume I know nothing of what has been going on here.’
‘Then you are unaware of the accusations?’
‘It seems so,’ he said guardedly. ‘Accusations against whom?’
‘Against your father. He was accused of being a traitor to the country during the war with France. Certain damning documents were found that appeared to prove your father was spying for the French and was himself part of a group of would-be revolutionaries who planned to incite rebellion within the country and topple the monarchy. It was a very serious charge, as you can imagine, punishable by death. In any event, the papers proved false – or were deemed not to be sufficiently reliable enough to use as evidence against your father. The charges were dropped. But the damage was done.
The Blackdown name was dragged through the mud as he fought to clear himself of the charges, and the mud did not go away with the rather inconclusive finding of his innocence. Society shunned him and blackened the family name. Even the townsfolk began to hate him for being a spy and a lover of the French, in spite of there being no real proof he was either. So he vowed he would not rest until his name had been fully cleared. He threw vast sums of money at it, drew on some of the most expensive lawyers he could find to discover who would brand him a traitor in the first place, and to start legal proceedings against newspapers and individuals who openly denounced him, some of them being powerfully rich individuals too. He fights it still. It has almost bankrupted him but he will not let it go, though it makes him ill. He has had to sell possessions and vast amounts of land to finance his folly, for that’s what it has become. He has let his pride become his own little demon, and it sits on his shoulder and urges him on to ever foolish courses of action. The loss of your brother at the height of all this only makes him even more determined to drag those who would have ruined him through the mud, as they did to him. I have tried talking to him, but he does not take counsel from anyone, and if it carries on thus it will drive him into his grave before his time.’
Thomas Blackdown sighed heavily. ‘I did not know.’
Reverend Bole looked up at the gargoyle. ‘There is more than one way of savaging a man, Thomas,’ he said. ‘Your father had made many enemies, as men in such powerful positions do, and it appears they were waiting their turn in bringing him down. It is not good to be a member of the Blackdown family at this moment, Thomas.’
‘I don’t think it was ever good to be a member of the Blackdown family.’ He shook the man’s hand. ‘Thank you for your time, Reverend Bole. I will make my way to Blackdown Manor.’
‘Don’t judge him too harshly,
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