Praise for the Sir John Fielding Mysteries
Smuggler’s Moon
“Bruce Alexander has mastered the uncommon knack of deftly capturing a period-perfect historical time without endangering the liveliness of the story with excessive detail.”
—Los Angeles Times
“Maritime action à la Patrick O’Brian …”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Rousing … swashbuckling … an exciting novel sure to please established fans and those who appreciate classic yarns in the tradition of Treasure Island.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Color of Death
“History has a thrilling way of hitting home in Bruce Alexander’s Georgian mysteries.”
—The New York Times Book Review
“Bruce Alexander’s books about Sir John Fielding … are so impeccably well-researched and carefully written that it’s easy to forget how full of adventure and excitement they are.”
—Chicago Tribune
“Thoroughly enjoyable … Alexander does a remarkable job of re-creating eighteenth-century London.”
—Los Angeles Times
“Packed with details of the age, including a cameo appearance by Dr. Samuel Johnson.”
—The Dallas Morning News
“Lively storytelling … accurate period details … Alexander offers food for thought as well as first-class entertainment.”
—Publishers Weekly
Death of a Colonial
“The author renders [the London streets] with the marveling eye of a time traveler … a rich rewarding trip for everyone.”
—The New York Times
“Charles Dickens and Arthur Conan Doyle must be beaming down from literary heaven at Bruce Alexander’s splendid series. Alexander’s eye for period detail is sharp and subtle; he brings historic England back to life in layers. Isn’t it time that some sharp producer began to turn these fascinating Fielding books into an A&E mini-series?”
—Chicago Tribune
“Alexander’s Sir John Fielding novels aren’t as well known as Anne Perry’s historical mysteries, but they should be … cleverly plotted, rich in historical ambience, and written with flair and a keen eye for detail. A mesmerizing tale certain to delight all historical-mystery lovers.”
—Booklist
Jack, Knave and Fool
“If there’s truth to the raucous scenes of urban life in Bruce Alexander’s atmospheric period mysteries, then London in the eighteenth century was a carnival of thieves, cutthroats and refined folk who ate with their hands.”
—The New York Times
“As Jeremy bustles about the city collecting clues and allowing fugitives to escape, he serves as the reader’s eyes as well as Sir John’s, capturing the flavor of life in old London.”
—The Christian Science Monitor
“A fascinating tale. Alexander does a great job of acquainting the reader with the dirty, grubby back streets of London and the high-ceilinged snobbery of the upper classes.”
—Sarasota Herald-Tribune
“An enjoyable adventure for the reader.”
—The Providence Journal-Bulletin
Person or Persons Unknown
One of Publishers Weekly’s Best Books of the Year
“Evocative.”
—Chicago Tribune
“Alexander provides rich period detail and a wonderful supporting cast … making this story intriguing from first page to last.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“The Dickensian detail and characters bring life to the sordid streets and alleys around London’s Covent Garden … Highly recommended, especially for lovers of historical mysteries who like to see another time and place blaze into life as they read.”
—The Washington Post Book World
Watery Grave
“Wonderful. … The high-minded and always astute Sir John is as companionable as ever in Watery Grave, and young Jeremy, wide-eyed but maturing fast, makes for a winning narrator. … Packed with history and lore.”
—The Washington Post
“Enthralling. … It’s a joy to watch the great magistrate apply his formidable intellect to this sordid business.”
—The New York Times Book Review
Murder in Grub Street
A New York Times Notable Book of the Year
“A fine tale. … Historical fiction done this entertainingly is as close to time travel as we’re likely to get.”
—Newsday
“First-rate, original, and persuasive.”
—The Boston Globe
“Alexander has a fine feel for this earthy period, with its interplay of serene reason and irrational cruelty and violence. A bewildering time, to be sure, but Sir John’s judicious insight and Jeremy’s naïve fascination supply a novel perspective on it.”
—The New York Times Book Review
“Noteworthy. … A stunning double climax.”
—Publishers Weekly
Blind Justice
“Blind Justice is as much fun to read as it must have been to write. Bruce Alexander has done a fine job of depicting mid-eighteenth-century London.”
—The Washington Post Book World
“A shocking solution. … Lively characters, vivid incidents, clever plotting, and a colorful setting. … A robust series kick-off.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Alexander works in a vigorous style that captures with gusto the lusty spirit of the era. Sir John and young Jeremy are an irresistible team in what promises to be a lively series.”
—The New York Times Book Review
Praise for Bruce Alexander and Sir John Fielding
“Sir John and Jeremy make a wonderful team. Jeremy’s youthful eagerness for adventure sets the invigorating pace and pulls us into the lively street scenes … but it is Sir John who puts the criminal events into perspective by sharing his clear, if troubling, insights into the greed, corruption, and shocking inhumanity that challenged the urban conscience in these hard, thrilling times.”
—The New York Times Book Review
“Fielding’s direction, with the estimable help of young Jeremy and a cast of colorful characters, is first-rate, and the period ambiance is both original and persuasive.”
—The Boston Globe
“This is a wonderful series. … In addition to giving us a marvelous parade of Georgian-era high and low characters in the London of Johnson and Boswell, it is packed with history and lore, and it’s altogether much fun.”
—The Washington Post Book World
“Alexander is wonderful at catching the pungent flavor of this grandly messy emerging world capital.”
—The Washington Post
“Bruce Alexander writes robust, stylish novels about a real-life historical figure. …[He] excels at vivid period portraits; outstanding here are … such sights as blue-blooded swells taking the waters in the resort town of Bath and the rarefied academic atmosphere of Oxford.”
—The Seattle Times
For the Members of the Suicide Club
SMUGGLER’S
MOON
Bruce Alexander
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as ”unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this ”stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
SMUGGLER’S MOON
A Be
rkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
G. P. Putnam’s Sons hardcover edition / October 2001
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / October 2002
Copyright © 2001 by Bruce Alexander.
Cover art by Jeff Barson.
Cover design by Judy Murello.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
For information address: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York. New York 10014.
Visit our website at
www.penguinputnam.com
EISBN: 9781101573730
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. The name BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the BERKLEY PRIME CRIME design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
ONE
In which Sir John
receives a special
assignment
It had been agreed that there was no need for Sir John Fielding to accompany Lady Fielding to the Post Coach House for her noon departure north to York. After all, he had his Bow Street court to convene at that same midday hour; and later in the day, he had an appointment to keep at the residence of the Lord Chief Justice. ”Something,” the magistrate had muttered to me, ”that will mean trouble for us, you may be sure of it.”
And so it was that Clarissa and I stood at the open door of the hackney coach as Sir John and his wife whispered their farewells and kissed in proper loving fashion. He then did accompany her to the hackney where we waited in attendance.
“I shall return, Jack,” said she, ”just as soon as Mama shows signs of a good recovery—or, on the other hand …” ”She will pull through, Kate, I’ve no doubt of it. Your mother is of hardy northern stock. No doubt she has a good ten years left in her.”
“I do hope you’re right,” said she with a sigh. ”We shall see.
With that, they kissed again. I pushed her portmanteau up to the driver. Sir John retreated unaided to the entrance of Number 4 Bow Street, as I gave Lady Fielding a hand up into the coach and followed her inside. Then were we underway. For the most part I remained silent as my mistress gave most of her attention to Clarissa, imparting to her directions, reminders, and all manner of encouragement for the days ahead. I came in for instruction only in the most general sort of way as we bounced along through the London streets.
She leveled a forefinger at me and said with great seriousness, ”Now, Jeremy, I shall ask you to offer Clarissa all the help that you can. I’ll not have reports of you two wrangling and fighting, shall I?”
“No, ma’am, certainly not.”
“I should hope not,” said she. ”Now, this will be a difficult time for all of us. Only if we remember to cooperate in all matters can we manage to pull through it. You do see that, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I certainly do.”
Once arrived at the Post Coach House, I hied off to purchase her ticket When I returned with it in hand, the coach to York had pulled up to its station, and Lady Fielding’s baggage was secured atop it. I handed the ticket to her as she looked about her anxiously.
“I had best claim my seat,” said she, ”else I shall find myself riding in the backward way. I must face front, or I shall grow sick, I know.” As she looked upon us, I saw tears glistening in her eyes. She dabbed at them with her kerchief. ”Do be good, children,” said she. ”And take good care of Jack, won’t you? See that he gets enough sleep—and you’ll help him dress, Jeremy? I can count on you?”
”Of course you can.”
“Then God bless you, both of you. Goodbye. I hate long farewells.”
With that, she turned and handed the ticket to the coachman, and he assisted her into its dark interior. Then did I step forward, and out of sight of Lady Fielding, I placed a shilling in his hand, as Sir John had instructed me.
“Your passenger is the dame of Sir John Fielding, magistrate of the Bow Street Court,” said I. ”He would greatly appreciate any courtesies or considerations that you may show her.” Then, most direct: ”What is your name, sir?”
Taken somewhat aback, the fellow could but blink in reply. But after a moment, he nodded and spoke his name. ”I am Henry Curtin,” said he.
“Very good, sir. I shall pass that on to Sir John. He does not forget those who offer him or his lady assistance.”
“You may be sure she will receive the best of care.”
“I’m sure she will, but …”
“Yes? But what?”
“But do not presume upon his generosity in matters before his court.”
“Oh, I would not think of it. And thank you, young sir.”
He tipped his hat to me, and I bowed in return. Taking Clarissa’s arm, I swept her from the coach yard. She, who had looked upon all that had passed with great interest, offered me a sly grin and a wink.
“So that is the way the world works, eh?” said she to me.
“Sir John thought it best,” said I.
“But did you not give that man license to commit murder—and a shilling to boot?”
“By no means!” said I, most indignant. ”Did you not hear me say that he was not to presume upon Sir John’s generosity?”
“Oh, I heard, but I wonder, did he understand the limits put upon him?”
“He had better, else he will be sorely disappointed.”
”Well then, what sort of preferment has he been offered?”
“Oh, how should I know? Chiefly misdemeanors, matters of sentencing, that sort of thing. Let us say, he comes before Sir John for public drunkenness, a common enough charge in Bow Street. He might then be sentenced leniently, perhaps have it suspended altogether.”
“What sort of justice is that?” She wailed it out so loud that all around us turned to stare.
I grasped her tighter at the elbow and moved her quickly through the crowd. And as we went, I whispered sharply to her.
“See here,” said I, ”you know and I know that Sir John is the most just of magistrates. He would handle it as it should be handled. Now, let us speak of it no more.”
“That—” She seemed about to offer an objection, yet she held it back: ”That suits me well, for Lady Kate has filled my head so full of instructions that I can scarce contain them all. If you will excuse my silence, I shall now attempt to review them all.”
Then did she go silent for a short space of time.
“Jeremy?”
“Yes? What is it?”
“You may release my arm now.”
“What? Oh yes, of course.” I did as she bade me.
“And if we might slow our pace a little?”
That we did, settling into a comfortable walk which would no doubt get us back to Bow Street in plenty of time to continue the day.
Truth be told, reader, Clarissa had caught me out. Sir John had told me to give to the coachman a shilling and ask him to look after Lady Fielding. Nothing more. It pained me at that moment to admit, if only to myself, that the rest—asking the coachman’s name, the vague statement that Sir John did not forget favors done him—all of that had been my invention. Even at the moment all was said, I thought I had perhaps gone a bit too far—hence my warning that the coachman was not to presume upon Sir John’s generosity. Why had I done so? Even now, near thirty years after the fact, I can but guess the reason: I was at that time (my age was seventeen in that year of 1772) impatient for my life to begin; and, wishing to get on with i
t, I was inclined upon occasion to give the impression that I was both better situated and more powerful than I was. In this case, I realized that I had overstepped myself, and yet I had not a notion of how things might be put right. Thus was I quite resentful of Clarissa for calling all this to my attention. Though we were often at odds, and I was in this instance quite annoyed at her, I was nevertheless forced to concede that, with the added duties that had fallen upon her with Lady Fielding’s departure, she was right to withdraw from our contentious conversation and concentrate upon all that must be done upon her return.
Lady Fielding had been absent from our home atop the court on only one previous occasion, and that was for a brief visit with her son, Tom Durham, then recently promoted from midshipman to lieutenant. She met him in Portsmouth, where he had been transferred to the Endurance, a ship of the line, ere it was ordered out to the Caribbean. She had been gone but five days, and at that time Annie was our cook and well able to keep things running smoothly. Now Annie was gone, an apprentice in the acting company of Mr. David Garrick at the Drury Lane Theatre. Lady Fielding had since then been filling in as cook as best she could as we searched to find another like Annie (vain hope!). Now, with Lady Fielding gone, it was up to Clarissa to fill in—and she with little training in the culinary arts. Nor was she to neglect her regular duties at the Magdalene Home for Penitent Prostitutes.
Clarissa, then just fifteen, had taken a path into the Fielding household in a manner similar to my own. She was the daughter of a felon—or one who would surely have hanged as one—educated beyond her station and bright beyond her years. Yet Lady Fielding took pity upon her and saved her from the Lichfield poor house, or service in some aristocrat’s downstairs crew, by persuading Sir John to take her on that she might have a secretary to aid her in her work at the Magdalene Home.
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