‘A note for you.’
A calloused hand was holding out a screw of paper. She took it, glancing up at the figure as she did so, but the man was huddled inside a worn surcoat with muffler wound around his chin and his hat pulled low over his eyes, effectively disguising him.
All Lucasta’s conjecture and curiosity had to be contained until she could drop behind her party. Then, while Mrs Symonds and Camilla laughed and joked with their escorts, she unfolded the paper. It contained a short message, written in an untidy, ill-formed hand. Lucasta read it and stopped in surprise. Crumpling the paper in her hand she looked around quickly, fearful that she was being observed, but nothing had changed, the two gentlemen were gallantly vying for Camilla’s attention while her mother looked on fondly. Lucasta put a hand on her mother’s shoulder and murmured her excuse.
‘No, do not come with me, Mama,’ she added. ‘I shall not go far, and it is more important that you prevent Camilla’s swains from behaving far too free.’
She could not have chosen a better reason for Mrs Symonds to remain with the main party: Camilla might laugh and flirt with her escorts but her mama must make sure there was no hint of impropriety. Smiling to herself, Lucasta slipped away. Within moments of taking a quieter path she heard a voice close behind her.
‘There’s an empty arbour to your right, miss.’
She turned without hesitation and stepped into the leafy shelter. The figure huddled in the surcoat followed her. Lucasta stared at him, her head on one side and a questioning look in her eyes until the figure lifted his chin free of the muffler. She nodded.
‘As I thought. Jacob Potts.’
The groom grinned.
‘I didn’t think there’d be any fooling you, miss.’
‘If nothing else your limp would give you away,’ she replied. ‘How is your leg now, Jacob?’
‘Improving, miss, but it gets a bit painful if I walks too much. I might have stayed with her hrace if the law hadn’t been on my tail.’
Oh heavens!’ Lucasta sank down onto the bench and put one nervous hand to her throat. Jacob gave a grim little smile.
‘Aye, came to arrest me, they did. The magistrate turned up, snoopin’ around, but her grace gave ’im short shrift, soon sent ’em all packing. But I didn’t want her grace to get into trouble so I ups and comes to London.’
‘But surely it is even more dangerous for you to be here.’
‘Oh I haven’t been to Wardour Street, nor to the stables neither, knowing that they was waiting to clap me up. But I remembered your direction, miss, and I have been waiting outside since dawn, waitin’ for a chance to talk with you.’
‘But you could not have followed me here on foot.’
‘No, miss, I had to take a hackney carriage.’
She reached for her reticule.
‘Then you must let me reimburse you …’
He quickly put out his hand, saying in a shocked voice, ‘It ain’t come to that yet, miss, that I can’t pay me own way.’
He sounded so fierce that she immediately closed her reticule. Remembering the state of her own finances, she could not help feeling slightly relieved. He continued slowly, ‘I was thinking, miss, that since my lord was so wondrous great with Miss Camilla, he might have sent a message to her, saying how he goes on?’
‘No. At least, if he has done so I have not heard of it.’ She paused. ‘However, I – um – I saw Lord Kennington this morning.’
‘You never did! But he’s in Newgate!’
She coloured.
‘Yes. I bribed the gaoler to let me in. I cannot tell you very much, only that Lord Kennington seemed well and was expecting his lawyer to arrange bail for him very soon.’
‘Well he hasn’t managed it yet,’ growled Potts. He tapped his nose. ‘Just cos I haven’t visited Wardour Street doesn’t mean I ain’t in touch with Gretton, and the word from him late this morning was that me lord is still clapped up and like to remain so.’
Lucasta sighed.
‘Oh Jacob, we must do something!’
‘Aye, but what?’
For a while they were silent, watching the crowds strolling past in the warm spring sunshine. At last Lucasta nodded.
‘I think it is the valet who holds the key to this.’ She sat up, suddenly resolute. ‘We must find him and talk to him; make him see that somehow the magistrate has been misled into thinking the viscount is guilty. If he would but talk to the authorities again then all would be well.’
‘Then I’ll find him. miss. Do you happen to know his name?’
She frowned.
‘I know I heard it … it was very like weasel…. Miesel. That was it, Miesel. Can you find him Jacob, and talk to him?’
‘Aye. I’ll get on it now.’
She raised her brows.
‘Now? But the day is almost done …’
Jacob grinned.
‘It never is. While your sort is enjoying yourselves at balls and parties and the like, the rest of us will be in the taverns dining on good ale and oysters!’
She laughed.
‘Very well, then. But how will you find him?’
‘Well, Sir Talbot was used to stable his cattle in the same mews as me lord, so that will be a start.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lucasta hurried back to her party to explain as best she could her long absence while Jacob began his enquiries. These led him eventually to Cheapside. It was late and the clear day had given way to an equally clear night. Jacob was glad of his heavy surcoat to ward off the chilly air as he wandered through the darkening streets. There were few lights burning in the windows, although when he turned into Milk Street one bow window glowed with lamplight. Sounds of singing and raucous laughter escaped each time the door opened, evidence that the tavern was busy. Further along the street he saw another block of light, a shop window. As he drew near he could see a woman inside the shop, engaged in sweeping the floor. Her hair was hidden beneath a mob-cap but one or two red-gold locks had escaped and curled against her creamy cheeks. Her low neckline displayed an ample bosom and her sleeves were rolled up, exposing the soft white skin of her arms. When she stepped out to sweep her doorstep he observed that her kirtle was caught up out of the dirt, displaying her fine ankles to great advantage. Jacob stopped, admiring the view from the far side of the street but at that moment two men came strolling by, arm in arm, commenting loudly upon the woman’s charms as they reached the shop front. Jacob could not hear the words but their meaning was plain enough, and he could tell that the woman was affronted.
‘Be off with you!’ she cried, wielding her broom like a weapon before her.
The men laughed and moved on while the woman glared after them. Jacob grinned to himself.
‘And you can begone, too,’ snapped the woman, turning her attention to him. ‘There’s women a-plenty next door if that’s what you’re after.’
‘No, no,’ Jacob strolled towards her, touching his hat. ‘I’m here on business.’
She curled her lip, a look of disbelief in her dark eyes.
‘Well go about your business, then.’
She propped the broom against the wall and reached for one of the window shutters.
‘Here, let me do that.’ Jacob stepped up and took the board from her. She watched him slot it into place over the window then silently handed him the next one.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered when the final shutter was secured.
He looked up at the legend above the door.
‘Mrs Sarah Jessop, cheesemonger.’ He cocked one eyebrow at her. ‘Would that be you, then?’
‘And what if it is?’
‘Then my business is with you, Mistress Jessop. Rather, it is with your tenant. I believe you have a gentleman lodging here, a Mr Miesel?’ It seemed to him that she drew back a little.
‘Oh? And what is he to you?’
‘I’ve never yet met the man,’ he answered mildly. ‘I merely wants a word with him. Would he be within?’
> ‘No he isn’t.’ She picked up her broom and stepped back into the doorway. He could see a narrow passage behind her leading to a flight of stairs, while an inner doorway to her right gave access to the cheese shop. ‘You’ll find him in the Raven.’ She pointed across the road to the tavern. ‘He takes his dinner there every night.’
He touched his hat again.
‘Thank you, Mistress, I’m obliged to you.’
She rebuffed his smile with a suspicious glare, stepped back and slammed the door. Jacob stared at the closed door, grinning.
‘As I said, ma’am, I’m obliged to you,’ he repeated before retracing his steps and entering the tavern.
The air in the taproom was warm and fragrant with a mixture of ale, meat and onions. To one side there was a long table flanked by two benches. A number of men were gathered there to enjoy their dinner. Some wore livery and others were dressed in the black coat and knee-breeches favoured by the more personal servant. Jacob glanced along the row. There, near the far end of the table, was his quarry, a small neatly dressed man with close-set eyes and untidy, sandy-coloured hair that stuck out around his ears. He smiled inwardly; Miss Symonds had the right of it, describing the fellow as a weasel. He called for a jug of ale and a steak pie and took his seat at the long table. The conversation was free-flowing and noisy but not exclusive: within a few moments Jacob was joining in, explaining away his homespuns by saying he had been working for a country gentleman until the old man died and he been obliged to leave his livery behind.
‘Aye, it’s a poor do if yer gaffer snuffs it,’ agreed his neighbour, shaking his head. ‘The family wouldn’t keep you on, then?’
‘He didn’t have no family,’ returned Jacob. ‘Place was shut up. Can’t imagine that happening here in London.’
‘Oh can’t you?’ grinned a liveried footman sitting opposite. ‘Well that’s where you’re wrong. The little shaver at the end of the table is in just such a pickle.’
‘Lost ’is place, has he?’ Jacob spoke casually, trying not to show too much interest.
‘Not so much lost, ‘ad it taken from him,’ said Jacob’s neighbour, coming back into the conversation. ‘His master was murdered, and there’s no one now to pay ’is wages.’
‘Murdered!’ Jacob gave a low whistle and the footman nodded.
‘Aye, coming back to Lunnon he was, and our friend with him. You may think that a valet could live comfortable-like in his master’s lodgings, until such times as things were sold up,’ the footman continued, pre-empting Jacob’s next question. ‘But no. He packed his bags and quit the place as soon as maybe. Ain’t that right, Dan?’ He leaned forward to shout down the table, and Miesel raised his eyes from his dinner. ‘It’s true, ain’t it, that you can’t go back to Sir Talbot’s lodgings?’
Miesel’s pale eyes glanced around the table, resting briefly on Jacob, who schooled his features into a look of mild interest. He thought there was little chance that Miesel would recognize him: when their paths had crossed at Bromsgrove the valet had been too busy fawning upon his bullying master to spare a glance for a lowly groom. He kept his gaze upon Miesel as he gave his companions a sly smile.
‘I was scared, you see: as witness to a murder and all, there’s some might want to keep me quiet.’
Jacob leaned forward.
‘You saw the murder?’
‘Aye. I was there.’
One of the men reached for the blackjack of ale and refilled his mug.
‘Tell us again what happened, Dan.’
‘We’d not long been on the common when there comes a shot from behind the bushes. Sir Talbot takes out his pistol and begins to climb down from the curricle. “I’ll hold ’em, Dan”, he says. “Run and fetch help, man!” So I did, but by the time I got back he was lyin’ dead on the road.’
‘But they’ve got the culprit now,’ chipped in the footman. ‘A viscount, he is, and killed his man in cold blood.’
‘You saw this viscount murder your master?’ asked Jacob.
The valet’s face took on a sly look.
‘I saw a tall man in a greyish caped greatcoat and a beaver hat, and he had another man with him, a much shorter fellow. Slightly built. A lad, mebbe.’
‘Kennington and his groom,’ nodded another of his auditors. ‘No doubt about it.’
Miesel shrugged.
‘How can I say? I’m not going to perjure myself. It could have been Lord Kennington but I couldn’t say for sure.’ He took a long draught from his mug and dragged his hand across his mouth, adding with a sly grin, ‘But like the magistrate said to me, how many tall gentlemen in light-coloured driving coats was crossing Hansford Common that day?’
‘I thought you said the attackers were hiding,’ said Jacob. ‘If you ran off immediately, how did you see who was shooting at you?’
‘They came out from hiding, as I made off,’ said Miesel. ‘And like I told the magistrate, if I saw them, ’tis very likely they saw me, and will want to silence me. “Don’t you worry, my good man”, he says to me, “we’ll keep the villains clapped up. No harm will come to you”. But what I says is, he’ll have friends, this viscount, and they’ll come to Sir Talbot’s lodgings, looking for me, as sure as eggs.’
Miesel scowled into his mug and his neighbour clapped him on the shoulder.
‘No need to worry now, though, Dan. You’re among friends here. We’ll keep you safe to see justice is done.’
‘Aye, justice,’ nodded Jacob, raising his mug. ‘I’ll drink to that!’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
An early morning airing gave Lucasta the opportunity for another meeting with Jacob Potts the next day, although with her pin-money spent she was obliged to buy her maid’s silence by giving her one of her bonnets. Hannah was quite happy with this arrangement and even dropped back to a discreet distance while her mistress conducted her business. The maid considered Miss Symonds a very pleasant-spoken young lady, and when she saw the look of dismay on her mistress’s face she surmised that the rough-looking man with the bad leg had brought her bad news. As they walked back to Sophia Street, Lucasta’s distracted air seemed to confirm this view and when the young lady took herself off to her bedchamber, refusing breakfast, Hannah was seriously alarmed. She was debating whether she should break her silence and take Cook, who was her aunt, into her confidence, when she was ordered to carry a note to Miss Symonds. The message, whatever it was, worked like a charm upon the young lady: no sooner had she read its contents than she began to smile.
‘Hannah,’ she said, ‘you had best fetch your bonnet and cloak again, for I need you to accompany me to see the Duchess of Filwood. Now we shall see some action!’
Lucasta went in search of her mother to ask her permission to call upon the duchess. She found Lady Symonds and Camilla still in the breakfast room, where her announcement that she had received an invitation to visit Filwood House was received with dismay.
‘Mama you cannot allow it,’ cried Camilla. ‘We must keep our distance from this affair, you said so yourself.’
‘I did, of course,’ muttered Lady Symonds, carefully studying the note. ‘However, it will not do to offend the Duchess of Filwood.’
‘Especially when she has shown me so much kindness,’ put in Lucasta.
‘And her son, the duke, is still unmarried.’
‘Really, Mama, how can that be important? Camilla is promised to Lord Kennington.’
‘No I am not,’ said Camilla quickly. ‘Nothing was formally agreed.’
‘But much was implied!’
‘That will do, Lucasta. We should all be thankful that no engagement has been announced. Once this sorry affair is settled then, of course, Camilla can resume her association with the viscount. Until then, well, since the duchess wishes to continue her acquaintance with you, Lucasta, I do not see it can do any harm, as long as you are discreet.’
‘Then I may go, Mama?’
‘I dare not refuse.’
Remembering her visit to Adam Luca
sta looked at her sister.
‘The duchess will no doubt be seeing Lord Kennington, Camilla, do you have any message to pass to him?’
‘No, nothing.’ Camilla tossed her head. ‘Pray do not look at me in that way, Lucasta. What would be said of me if it was known I was consorting with a criminal?’
‘You are not very charitable, Sister.’
‘There is no room here for charity,’ cut in Lady Symonds. ‘Camilla must maintain her reputation. And you must take care what you say to the duchess, Lucasta. You must do nothing to jeopardize our family. Perhaps I should come with you.’
Lucasta put up her hand, saying quickly, ‘Her Grace has requested only me, Mama. We would not want to offend….’ She breathed sigh of relief when her mother accepted this and it was in a mood of optimism that she went off to collect her pelisse.
Lady Symonds ordered her carriage to take Lucasta the short distance to Filwood House. Leaving her maid to await her in the echoing hall, Lucasta followed the footman to the morning-room, where she was informed that her grace was expecting her. She entered with some trepidation, but as the door was closed upon them the duchess held out her hands, saying with her twinkling smile, ‘I knew you would make a handsome young lady!’
With something like a sob Lucasta ran forward to clasp the beringed fingers.
‘Your Grace, I am so glad you are here. I have been so wretched!’
‘Well, I should think so, with Adam accused of murder and locked up in gaol!’ She guided Lucasta to a sofa. ‘Sit down, child. I had the story from Potts before he left me and I made sure all would be resolved by the time I came to Town. Instead I find everything in a sad pickle.’
Lucasta Page 8
