The Thief Taker

by Janet Gleeson

  Thomas pulled her gently to one side. He jumped up onto the ledge and squeezed his way out. Silently he inched his way on all fours toward the parapet. All the while Peter remained immobile, straining to hear. When Thomas was two feet away, Peter must have heard a faint rustle behind him. He half turned his head and went as if to move forward. Agnes closed her eyes. She opened them again just as Thomas grabbed him unceremoniously about the waist and dragged him back to safety. “There now,” he said, without removing the blindfold. “I’ve your mother waiting for you inside. Let’s go and see her, shall we?”

  Thomas lifted the shivering child through the window. Agnes carried him past Philip’s body and down the two flights of stairs to Pitt’s room before she untied his blindfold and bindings and embraced him.

  “I went in a carriage with Philip,” he said, his ribs heaving with sobs. “After we went in the boat, he said we would play a game and he would bring me to you, if I let myself be blindfolded. But why did he leave me out there so long in the cold?”

  “It’s all right,” she said as lightly as she could, breathing in the scent of his damp hair. “It’s over now. He has gone. He won’t trouble you again.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  “JEALOUSY,” SAID AGNES, “is as cruel as the grave. It leads men and women to desperate lengths, to commit untold evil. Philip could not reconcile himself to the fact that Rose’s affections had cooled for him. He was a handsome fellow, with an appetite for women of all shapes and sizes.” She glanced at Doris, and then at Nancy. “And he was accustomed to having any girl he chose.”

  She was holding forth during the servants’ breakfast, having arrived back too late the previous night to apprise anyone that Philip was dead. She was exhausted, her neck was bruised, her limbs ached. But despite everything, the Blanchards still had to be fed and the household was still a kitchen maid short, and now a footman. She had risen at seven as usual, but before beginning her duties had searched Philip’s things. Secreted in a corner of his chest she had found a note from Marcus Pitt, arranging a meeting for the payment of his “commission.” There was also a small leather purse containing fifteen gold sovereigns. The rest of Rose’s money, Agnes presumed, had been spent on the new attire he had been wearing yesterday.

  She looked around the table. Mrs. Tooley was pale-faced. In a minute or two, thought Agnes, she’ll reach for her salts and want a lie-down. Curiously, however, Agnes no longer resented her weakness.

  “If he had the pick of us all, why in heaven’s name did he waste time on someone who didn’t want him?” asked Nancy. She was brittle as ever, but she had a gleam in her eye. What was it? Agnes wondered. Anger that Agnes had not believed her story about the purse? Guilt at her involvement? Fear for herself and her unborn child?

  “Because being spurned was new to him—and bothered him deeply. He convinced himself he loved her, and pestered her repeatedly to take him back. And Rose, as we all know, could be unkind on occasion.”

  “Unkind—that’s putting it mildly,” said Nancy. “She was a hard jade and I don’t care who knows it.”

  Agnes sighed. Not very long ago she had harbored just such jealousy and bitterness. “Rose didn’t care if she hurt Philip because she too had been hurt in love. She and Thomas Williams had become engaged when he came to London to work for Blanchards’. When Rose’s father died suddenly, she was obliged to seek work, and found a post as a maid to Lord Carew. But Rose detested life as a servant. She begged Thomas to marry her early so she could stop working, and when he refused because he was worried about his own position, she broke off the engagement.”

  “Then she’d no reason to feel sorry for herself, had she? She only had herself to blame.”

  “Quiet, Nancy.” Doris broke in with unusual authority. “Let us listen to what Mrs. Meadowes has to say before we hear your thoughts on it.”

  “She was a headstrong girl,” said Agnes. “After the quiet of Newcastle, London must have turned her head. Like Philip, she enjoyed the company of the opposite sex. She thought that with all the eligible men in London she would not find it hard to persuade someone else to marry her. But then a month or so later she realized it was not going to be so easy, and asked Thomas to take her back.”

  “Then if she was after Thomas, why take up with Philip and Riley?” asked Nancy.

  “Because Thomas was still uncertain about his position. And being determined and impatient, Rose couldn’t wait. She set about trying to make him jealous. She flirted with Riley, and then she turned her attentions to Philip. But her plan misfired. After a few months, Thomas told her that he no longer trusted her and would never change his mind.

  “By then Rose had tired of Philip. But he convinced himself he was smitten with her. So much so that he asked her to marry him. Rose laughed at him and told him he was an idiot even to think he could support a wife when he was only a footman, and said he knew as well as she that servants were not allowed to marry.”

  “And the man in the street?” said Mrs. Tooley, dabbing her eyes with the effort of taking so much in. “Was he another follower?”

  “He was her brother,” said Agnes. “He returned from abroad, and only then discovered what had become of his father and sister. He was aghast to find Rose living as a servant. After all, she was an educated girl. He suggested that she come and help him in a school he intended to open in France. I think that was why she cooled toward Philip. She wanted to tell Mrs. Blanchard—there was no other reason for her to have taken such an interest in her comings and goings. But in the end, possibly because she would never be listened to with sympathy, she decided against it.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Mrs. Tooley. “Do you mean to say Rose had nothing to do with the robbery after all?”

  “Oh, no. She was the reason it happened. Somehow Philip got wind of her intention to leave. Perhaps he overheard you, Mrs. Tooley, ticking her off for talking to a strange man in the street. Then there was the letter Nancy found. In any case, he became desperate to change her mind. Remember, Rose told him they could not marry because he couldn’t provide for her.

  “He looked for a way to make money quickly. Being a friend of one of the apprentices, he visited the workshop frequently and knew what was happening there. He heard about the wine cooler—the most precious item Blanchards’ had ever made. It must have seemed a God-given opportunity, and so he devised a scheme to steal it.”

  “But did he not feel disloyal for ruining the family that gave him employ?” said Patsy. “I always thought him such a deferential fellow.”

  Agnes nodded, remembering Philip dressed in livery, handsome, the perfect servant. “He had a capacity for deference, I do not deny that, but underneath he resented the restrictions of his position much as Rose did.”

  Agnes caught John exchange an uneasy glance with Mr. Matthews. Perhaps, she thought, they are worried I might let slip their plans for the celebrations to mark John’s coming of age, and the pilfering that has gone on to fuel them.

  “But how did he set about orchestrating the scheme?” said John.

  “Unlike you, John, Philip frequently passed his evenings in the alehouses of this part of the city. He claimed he was in the Blue Cockerel on the night of the robbery. In such places Pitt’s reputation as a preeminent thief taker is well known.” Here Agnes was unable to conceal her disapproval. “The business of thief taking relies upon a vast retinue of informants. It would not have been hard for Philip to establish contact with one of them and then arrange a meeting with Pitt.”

  Agnes took a sip of tea. Disturbing images crowded her thoughts; of Pitt, holding her captive, pressing himself on her; of Philip’s hands about her neck; of Peter blindfolded on the edge of the roof. She blinked, looked up again, took a breath.

  “Pitt and Philip agreed that the reward for the wine cooler’s return would be split between the pair of them and a fee would also be paid to Harry Drake, who would carry out the robbery. But Harry Drake was a greedy man, and when he saw that Phi
lip was employed in the house of a silversmith, he had the foolish idea of extracting further money from him. On the night that Elsie came to take the message for Pitt, she saw her father waiting in the street, signaling to someone at the house—Philip, who was in the dining room at the time, threatening to reveal his identity unless he paid for his silence. Philip pretended to agree.

  “Philip must have taken a wine label from the dining room—I found it in Drake’s pocket and returned it to Mr. Matthews’s drawer. I fancy Drake must have protested that the wine label wasn’t valuable enough to buy his silence. So Philip said he would find something more, and arranged a meeting later that night at the house where Drake was guarding the wine cooler. Only instead of taking more valuables to Drake, Philip decapitated him.”

  John glanced again at Mr. Matthews, who asked, “But why did Philip need to murder the apprentice? Why not simply incapacitate him?”

  “I asked myself the same question. I believe it was because he had only just learned that time was short. Rose’s plan to leave was more imminent than he had first realized. If the apprentice was not silenced, his scheme would be more perilous. The apprentice might overpower Drake, in which case the scheme might fail and Rose would be gone before he had made himself rich. He was unwilling to take that chance.”

  Nancy turned scarlet. “It was him what egged me on to take the letter that was sent her. I only did so to make him notice me.” She grew suddenly tearful, one hand resting protectively on her belly. “And then I meant to put it back, only she discovered it was missing and flew at me. I thought he’d lose interest in her once he knew she was going. How was I to know he’d kill her on account of it?”

  “You have no need to blame yourself,” said Agnes gently. “He was expert at using charm and flattery to get what he wanted. I too was misled by him in a way. The truth was there all along, but it took me a while to see what it was.”

  “How did you discover it was him?” said Mr. Matthews, his gaunt old face resembling that of an Old Testament prophet. “I never would have thought him capable of such devilry. You must have probed in places you were not entitled to go.”

  “It was the boots that made me first suspect,” said Agnes, avoiding his pointed remark.

  “What boots?”

  “The morning after the robbery and Rose’s disappearance, I found a pair of boots on the kitchen table. Philip was in your pantry. Although he confessed to having been out that night, he pretended he did not know what had happened to Rose and said the boots weren’t his.

  “I thought no more of it, but when I found the gun in the cellar I decided that the culprit was most likely one of the menservants. Who else would have an opportunity to hide the gun there? And then I began to reflect upon what Philip had told me of his relationship with Rose. He pretended there was nothing between them when she left, but when Nancy confessed that she had taken the letter, I thought she would not have done so unless she had a purpose, and that purpose was most likely turning Philip against Rose. Philip said he had passed the night at the Blue Cockerel, but while the landlord recalled seeing him, he had no notion when he left.

  “When Elsie told me she didn’t know who had taken her in the carriage, but that it wasn’t one of the menservants, I confess I was baffled. But then I realized that while she would have recognized Mr. Matthews or John, she had never laid eyes on Philip.”

  Mr. Matthews ran his hand across his venerable head. “But the time you went to Mr. Pitt’s house, Philip accompanied you. And I thought you met Elsie there.”

  “That is true, but Grant insisted that Philip wait outside. Had he not, perhaps Elsie would have observed him and identified him sooner as the man she had seen chasing Rose by the river.”

  “I still do not believe that Rose was as innocent as you say,” protested Nancy. “What of the salver I found her handling?”

  “That was nothing to do with her. Theodore had established a duty-dodging scheme with Riley—cutting marks from one piece and putting them in another to try and save duty, in order to finance a move to the west of the city. I doubt it earned him much, but he yearns for a life free of his father’s influence. But none of it had anything to do with Philip and his evil scheme, or Rose’s determination to leave.”

  Mrs. Tooley took a noisy sniff of her salts. Her hands were shaking. “I have a replacement maid arriving this morning. I sincerely hope she’s more manageable than Rose Francis.”

  At this, Nancy and Doris bombarded her as to the age, appearance, and background of the new arrival. Then everyone fell silent for a moment, and Mr. Matthews coughed and rose. The sternness in his eyes had returned. “I thank you for enlightening us, Mrs. Meadowes. When you have finished your breakfast, I should like a further word in private.”

  AGNES KNEW as soon as she entered the pantry what he would say. Rose’s purse and a folded paper lay on his table. She was gratified to note that he could not meet her eye. “I am sorry,” he said. “The decision of which I am about to inform you is not mine. Sir Bartholomew Grey came to call on Mr. Blanchard, Senior yesterday, and told him of your visit. Even had you not removed a letter that was not addressed to you from my office, I have no recourse. You will be paid a week’s notice. To assist you with your child, I should like to add this to that sum.” And he handed her Rose’s purse.

  Chapter Forty-five

  THE BELLS OF ST. PAUL’S struck two as Agnes Meadowes, laden with a basket of provisions, her cloth-bound recipe book, and an assortment of cleaning utensils, unlocked the door to a small house in Watery Lane. Depositing her possessions in the dark hall, she made her way into a shabby front room, furnished with four tables and a counter, all covered with dust. Not for the first time, she remarked to herself that there was a great deal of painting and scrubbing to be done. Striding through to the kitchen, she surveyed a range that was brown with rust, a floor slick with congealed grease, and a blackened dresser, the recesses of which she had not yet dared explore. Upstairs was a warren of sparsely furnished rooms in a state of similar filth and dilapidation. Nevertheless, she felt not in the least despondent. She had used Theodore’s five pounds and Rose’s fifteen sovereigns to rent these premises, where she would begin a new enterprise as proprietor of an eating house and purveyor of pastries and pies.

  She carried a bucket to the pump in the yard outside and filled it with water. She began to scrub the range, but was soon forced to stop. Rose’s brother, in recognition of what she had done in pursuing his sister’s murderer, had given her Rose’s ring and silver box. The ring had caused a blister to appear on her finger.

  Agnes pulled it off. She smiled as she remembered coming upon Rose in the larder, locked in an embrace with Philip. In the past, both she and Rose had been forced along unwise paths. But unlike Rose, fate had given her opportunity to set things straight. She slipped the ring into her pocket and returned to her work.

  Sometime later, when the range was clean and the blacking of the iron well under way, Agnes heard a knock on the door. “Elsie,” she said, seeing the thin-faced girl, still swathed in her rags and red shawl, and wearing Rose’s overlarge boots. Without knowing why, Agnes embraced her. “You are here at last! There’s a deal to be done before this house is habitable. Tomorrow, Sarah Sharp will bring Peter. This evening, Thomas Williams might call.” She smiled as she mentioned his name, and thought of his hair spread about his head like a mane, his arms flung out like the spokes of a wheel on his pillow. “And suppose Mrs. Tooley keeps her promise and comes to visit this weekend. You have never known anyone so particular as she is. The smallest cobweb is guaranteed to give her a turn.”

  “Then why don’t I make a start upstairs and you carry on down here?” said Elsie, her feline eyes surveying Agnes calmly.

  “Yes. But first let us take something to eat. I am half starved, and I am sure you must be too. There’s nothing in the place save an oyster pie, a piece of gammon, and an orange I brought with me.” Agnes took out Rose’s ring. “And since this is too small for m
y finger, I should like you to have it—for helping as you did, and joining me now.”

  Wordlessly, Elsie slid it on her bony finger and rubbed it on her shawl to bring up its luster. Then she cast her eye over the basket. Her hungry look reminded Agnes of the time not so very long ago when she had snatched the orange.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” she said. “Mr. Pitt could never have fed me half so well. Did you hear, by the by, that his case has been dismissed for want of anyone willing to give testimony against him, and he’s back in Melancholy Walk? I’ll set a table, shall I?”

  Acknowledgments

  AGNES’S COOKERY and the duties of other members of the house are based upon household guides such as The British Housewife: or the Cook, Housekeeper’s and Gardiner’s Companion, by Martha Bradley, 1756; The English Housekeeper, by A. Cobbett, 1842; The Servant’s Practical Guide: A Handbook of Duties and Rules, Frederick Warne, publisher, 1880; and The Experienced English Housekeeper, by Elizabeth Raffald, 1997. Other helpful books included What the Butler Saw: Two Hundred and Fifty Years of the Servant Problem, by E. S. Turner, 1962; Costume of Household Servants, by P. Cunnington, 1974; Life Below Stairs, by Frank E. Huggett, 1977.

  Descriptions of eighteenth-century silversmithing practices relied upon Three Centuries of English Domestic Silver, by Bernard and Therle Hughes, 1952; and Silver in England, by P. Glanville, 1987. Details of markings and duty dodging were taken from Hallmark: A History of the London Assay Office, by J. S. Forbes, 1999. I am also grateful for the assistance of the librarian at Goldsmiths’ Hall.

  As ever, my thanks are due to Sally Gaminara and her editorial team at Transworld Publishers; to my agent, Christopher Little, and his staff; and to Ruth Fecych at Simon & Schuster for her hard work on editing the U.S. edition.