An hour later, after he’d had his breakfast, Hamer had a welcome visitor. It was Rawdon Carr, the friend on whose advice he’d so often relied. When a servant had relieved the newcomer of his wet cloak and hat, Hamer conducted Carr into the drawing room.
‘The Skillen brothers worry me,’ he confessed.
‘I’m still trying to find a way to get them off your back, Stephen.’
‘Don’t let it require dogs next time.’
‘As it happens, it did cross my mind to use two terriers by the name of Yeomans and Hale but they’d never get the better of the brothers. They’ve tried before. The only use they have for us is as scavengers, gathering up evidence from that army of informers they keep. We can look for nothing more from the Runners.’
‘They think they’re in partnership with us, Rawdon.’
‘Let them. When the time comes, we’ll spurn them like mistresses who’ve outlived their usefulness and become tiresome.’ He grinned. ‘That’s a situation we both know well.’ He peered at the bags under his friend’s eyes. ‘You look as if you’ve hardly slept a wink.’
‘I haven’t.’
‘Who was the lucky lady this time?’
‘There isn’t one.’
‘It’s not like you to take a vow of celibacy, Stephen.’
‘I kept coming back to the same question. Who is doing this to me?’
‘You do have a habit of making enemies,’ said Carr, ‘most of them female, I grant you, but there are probably men with long memories as well.’
‘It has to be someone close to me, Rawdon.’
‘Or someone who was close at one time. That brings us back to your spent mistresses. None of them went willingly. Didn’t the last one assault you?’
Hamer laughed. ‘She punched me hard,’ he said, ‘and I rather enjoyed that. A woman roused is always a joy to see. I took her back to bed for an hour then sent her on her way for good. Though she pretended to go quietly this time, the little baggage stole a silver salver from the dining room. I let her keep it as a souvenir.’
‘Perhaps she stole a Spanish dagger as well,’ suggested Carr.
Hamer’s laughter died out at once. It was something he’d never considered. When he thought about his relationship with the woman, he realised how much she must have learnt about his life and circumstances. She’d been particularly keen to find out how wealthy he was. In fact, it was her wish to convert a fleeting romance into a marriage that convinced him to get rid of her.
‘Did you ever confide in her?’
‘No, Rawdon, that was not why the affair blossomed.’
‘Was she ever in this house when you were absent?’
‘As a matter of fact, she was.’
‘There you are, then – she could have done some prying.’
‘I expressly forbade it.’
‘When the cat’s away …’
‘She wouldn’t have dared.’
‘A desperate woman would dare anything, especially if she has designs on becoming Mrs Hamer. She’d certainly find a means of getting into that collection of weapons you hold so dear. We know she had a thieving instinct because she filched your salver. That’s who got hold of the dagger, Stephen,’ said Carr, decisively. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Miss Eleanor Gold.’
‘Find her quickly and shake the truth out of her.’
‘Not so fast,’ said Hamer, ‘you’re leaping to conclusions like a master of hounds going over a five-barred gate. It was not a long attachment. She’d only have been left alone in this house two or three times.’
‘Once was enough.’
‘If she’d taken that dagger, she’d have tried to use it on me.’
‘Miss Gold might have done something far more subtle,’ Carr pointed out. ‘She could’ve used it against you and left you to face the consequences.’
‘I’m sorry, Rawdon, but there’s a fatal flaw in your argument. Bowerman was not struck down anywhere. He was stabbed to death in a property that I own. Eleanor could never have known it belonged to me.’
‘Her accomplice might have done so.’
‘What accomplice?’
‘I’m talking about the one who committed the murder, of course. A lot of forethought went into the plan. Bowerman was killed to throw suspicion on to you and a house you owned was chosen as the venue for the crime. Two enemies are in league against you,’ said Carr, ‘and only one of them wears a petticoat.’
‘I refuse to believe it of Eleanor.’
‘Soft-heartedness doesn’t become you, Stephen.’
‘She was fiery but not capable of plotting against me.’
‘Then she was recruited by a man. He’s the real villain.’
‘I wonder …’
‘Where is Miss Eleanor Gold now?’
Hamer was dismayed. ‘I have no idea, Rawdon.’
‘Then I suggest we find out – very quickly.’
When he called at the house, Lemuel Fleet did so with great trepidation. Hannah Granville needed to be handled with great tact at the best of times. In the wake of the attack on her, he suspected, she’d be in a state of constant turbulence. He was wrong. Much to his relief, he found her subdued and, for once, almost reasonable. Their discussion took place in a room at the rear of the house because she refused to enter the drawing room again.
‘How are you, Miss Granville?’ he asked.
‘I’d rather not talk about the incident, if you don’t mind.’
‘Mr Skillen spoke of scratches to your cheek. I see no sign of them.’
‘They are still there, Mr Fleet, but I choose to hide them.’
‘And are you reconciled to the idea that Mr Mundy was not responsible for throwing that stone at the window?’
‘I’m more than reconciled,’ she said, quietly. ‘I feel slightly abashed that I raged at an innocent man. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to overlook all the insults he’s directed at me,’ she continued, ‘but I no longer accuse him.’
‘Is it permissible to pass on his best wishes to you?’
‘I’d rather not hear his name at all, if you don’t mind.’
‘Then I might as well leave now,’ he said, getting up.
‘No, no, sit down again, please. There are things we must talk about.’
He resumed his seat. ‘How can I do without mentioning his name?’
‘You’ve spent your working life accommodating headstrong actresses, Mr Fleet. Accommodate my whims, please.’
‘I’ve done rather a lot of that recently,’ he murmured.
‘What guarantees can you offer me?’
‘I can offer you none with regard to … the gentleman who remains nameless.’
‘That’s not what I’m worried about,’ she explained. ‘In view of what happened, this house is my fortress. I’m afraid to stir outside it. What guarantees can you give me of my safety?’
‘You shall have as many bodyguards as you wish. As well as looking after you during rehearsals, they’ll convey you to and from the theatre.’
‘Thank you. I needed that reassurance.’
‘Does that mean you will return to the company?’
‘It means that I will not rule it out, sir.’
Fleet smiled. ‘I never hoped for the slightest concession from you.’
‘Nor have you got one,’ she said. ‘If I’m to resume my painful acquaintance with The Piccadilly Opera, it is there that the concessions have to be made.’
‘You have an unexpected ally, Miss Granville.’
‘Is that really so?’
‘Were I not forbidden to do so, I would tell you the lady’s name.’
‘Then I encourage you to do so,’ said Hannah, curiosity taking over. ‘You refer to Mrs Mundy, I take it. It’s the husband I abominate. I feel nothing but sympathy for a wife who is yoked to such a burden for the rest of her life. What did Mrs Mundy say?’
‘She was profoundly sorry to hear of your plight. The first thing she did was to offer up a prayer for your
recovery. The lady is not so wedded to her husband that she is entirely blind to his failings. She has a vastly higher opinion of his play than you do, perhaps, but she’s ready to admit its occasional inadequacies.’
‘They are not occasional, Mr Fleet.’
‘Please don’t deliver another diatribe, Miss Granville.’
‘I wasn’t going to. Before I can think of returning to the fold, there is an urgent question to be answered.’
‘What is it?’
‘Since he, it transpires, is not bent on harming me, then who is?’
Now that she’d rallied visibly, Paul Skillen felt able to leave her alone at the house. He had enquiries to make elsewhere. When he’d called on Sir Geoffrey Melrose, the man’s memory had been strangely uncertain regarding the dinner party he’d once given at his town house. While readily confirming that Mark Bowerman and Laetitia Somerville had been present, he could only supply Paul with one other name. It was that of Rollo Winters, described by Sir Geoffrey as a politician of sorts and a decent fellow to boot. Paul deduced that the two men were old cronies.
Having been told that Winters called at his club every morning at the same time, Paul made sure that he arrived there shortly after. There was no need for any introductions. Winters was already expecting him because he’d received notice of it. Paul could see that Sir Geoffrey had warned his friend not to be too forthcoming. Rollo Winters was an impressive man, tall, well proportioned and with more than a little of his earlier good looks. There was an almost noble quality about him. His long black locks were tinged with grey and his face deeply lined but he seemed far too sprightly to be the sixty-year-old proclaimed on his birth certificate.
‘Good day to you, Mr Skillen,’ he said with bogus jocularity. ‘Sir Geoffrey has told me a little about you and your quest. I’m not sure that I can help you.’
‘It depends on how retentive your memory is.’
‘Oh, it’s very retentive. That’s essential in a politician. You have to remember an interminable number of names and be able to relate each one to the way they vote and the company they keep. You must never speak out of turn among fellow politicians. That could be fatal. Memory is your saviour.’
‘Does it only operate in the House of Commons, Mr Winters?’
‘I see what you’re getting at. You refer to dinner parties.’
‘I refer to one in particular, sir. It was at Sir Geoffrey’s house.’
‘Then a problem raises its head at once, Mr Skillen. When he is here, Sir Geoffrey often has dinner parties. You might say that it’s a way of life for him. He’s never happier than when entertaining friends. I’ve been to so many of the gatherings that I have difficulty separating them.’
‘This one involved a gentleman named Mr Bowerman. After the death of his wife, he shunned society. Simply getting him to the table was an achievement in Sir Geoffrey’s eyes. Since he only made that single appearance, your retentive mind should remember Mr Bowerman.’
‘Indeed, I do. He was rather too shy and desiccated in my view. All that he did was to stare fixedly at the ladies present – one lady, actually – and contribute nothing whatsoever to the prevailing hilarity.’
‘Let’s talk about that one lady, if I may,’ said Paul. ‘Her name was Miss Laetitia Somerville.’
‘Was it?’ asked the other in mock surprise. ‘I believe you’re right. The truth is that I never remember the names of the fairer sex. Their faces, bodies and carriage are engraved on my mind for ever but, since they’re of no political significance, I treat them as the pleasing and decorative objects that they are.’
‘Had you met Miss Somerville before?’
‘Unhappily, I had not.’
‘Do you know how she came to be there?’
‘Sir Geoffrey must have invited her.’
‘I’m wondering if she came at your behest, Mr Winters.’
‘That’s very flattering,’ said the other with a chuckle, ‘but it’s not true. When you reach my age, alas, beautiful young women don’t flock to join your circle. A young man like you, however, is in a different position.’ Closing one eye, he regarded Paul with the other. ‘If you want to know who took her to the dinner party, why don’t you approach the lady herself?’
‘I’ve already done so, sir.’
‘What was her explanation?’
‘She went along at the invitation of a female friend.’
‘Then that’s your answer. Why bother me?’
‘I was not entirely persuaded by her claim. Also, I thought you could tell me a little more about the occasion.’
‘What is there to tell?’ asked Winters with a grin. ‘It was a typical dinner party thrown by Sir Geoffrey. The food was delicious, wine flowed freely, the ladies sparkled and the only thing that impaired the general gaiety was that gloomy individual, Bowerman. We just ignored him and revelled into the night.’
‘Yet he was the one who gained the real prize,’ said Paul. ‘Having met Miss Somerville, he developed an interest in her that burgeoned until it reached the point where he wooed and won her over.’
‘I’d never have thought him capable of it.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive.’
‘Oh, you don’t need to tell me that,’ said Winters, chuckling again. ‘When I look at the benches opposite me in the Commons, I see rows of serious, upright and apparently respectable men. In reality, of course, many of them are rogues, charlatans, certifiable idiots and seasoned adulterers.’ He put a hand to his chest. ‘I am none of those things, by the way.’
But Paul had already made his appraisal of Rollo Winters. Beneath his affability was a calculating politician who’d learnt to keep intrusive questions at bay. It was evident that he remembered the dinner party extremely well and could, if he desired, have listed the names of everyone present. In doing that, however, he would have revealed the real nature of the event. It was not simply a gathering of like-minded friends. The women were expected to be more than merely decorative. Paul recalled that Bowerman had told him that Laetitia stood out from the other women because she didn’t flirt or giggle drunkenly. Quiet and dignified, she’d never let her guard down. Bowerman had admired her for that.
‘It’s almost noon,’ said Winters. ‘Can I offer you refreshment of some sort?’
‘No, thank you,’ replied Paul.
‘I only come fully awake with that first brandy. Don’t you need something to brace yourself against the demands of the day?’
‘I like to keep my head clear, Mr Winters.’
‘Alcohol sharpens the brain, take my word for it.’
‘Then why did it deprive you of the details of a dinner party you once attended? The wine may have flowed yet the memory was dulled.’
Winters scowled. ‘You’re not a member of this club, Mr Skillen,’ he said, crisply. ‘If you don’t leave immediately, I’ll ask the steward to throw you out.’
Paul smiled. ‘I’ll gladly take my leave of you.’
As he stood up, he caught sight of someone out of the corner of his eye. The man came in through the door, stopped and went straight out of the room again. When he turned around, Paul saw that there was nobody there.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In spite of his antagonism towards her, Abel Mundy had a vestigial sympathy for Hannah Granville. When he’d first heard what happened, he felt sorry for her and not a little relieved that she’d survived the attack more or less intact. Had she been seriously injured, she’d have been unable to appear in his play and the production would have had to be abandoned. Without her, it could not take place; even with her, unfortunately, its chances of being performed remained slim. Mundy had been shocked that a rehearsal should be held without his knowledge and that radical changes were made to his work. Fleet had done his best to soothe the irate playwright and to convince him that alterations were unavoidable. After staring into the abyss of possible cancellation, Mundy finally accepted that The Piccadilly Opera at least ought to include proper arias to justify its
title. Without them, his play might vanish altogether without trace. Given the torment it had caused to everyone involved, no other London theatre would touch it. Lemuel Fleet was his only hope.
Since there had to be cooperation on his part, Mundy decided to go to the theatre and discuss the situation with the manager. Before he did so, he went into the drawing room to tell his wife what he was going to do. He found her on her knees in prayer in front of the small crucifix they’d put up on the mantelpiece. It was not unusual to see her in such a position. They said prayers together every night beside the bed before they got into it. What made a difference this time was the fact that she remained in an attitude of submission for much longer than usual. It was several minutes before she finished. Becoming aware of her husband, Marion rose to her feet immediately.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Were you waiting to tell me something?’
‘Yes, my dear, I was. I’m going to see Mr Fleet to seek a compromise.’
‘Then my prayers have been answered.’
‘Yet you were the one who said that I shouldn’t change a syllable of the play.’
‘That was before Miss Granville was almost blinded. I’ve been tortured by the thought of what might have happened to her. You’d have lost the chance of seeing a play of yours at the Theatre Royal, perhaps, but you’ll go on to write others that will grace the stage there. In her case,’ she said, ‘she’d have lost both her eyesight and her whole career. Miss Granville would never be able to act again.’
‘God bless you, Marion. You have a tender heart.’
She thrust out her jaw. ‘It can be a block of ice, if necessary.’
‘This latest crisis has rightly melted it,’ he said. ‘As a gesture of compassion to Miss Granville, I’ll allow more music in my play. Whether or not that concession will be enough to pacify her, only time will tell.’
‘Would you like me to come with you, Abel?’
A Date with the Executioner Page 17
