by Mary Nichols
Amelia put out a tentative hand which was gripped by the little fingers. ‘Oh!’ she said, and laughed.
It was later, when the children had both been taken off to the nursery and the midwife was busy sorting linen in an adjoining room, that James sat holding his wife’s hand and voiced his thoughts. ‘I have everything I want here,’ he said. ‘A darling wife, a lovely home, two beautiful children and the respect of the villagers. I thank God for it every day.’
‘But?’ she queried lightly.
‘I think I should give something in return, put something back…’
‘But you do. You are an example to every estate owner for miles around. The land has never been in better heart, the villagers are con tented and, as a magistrate, you dispense justice fairly and moderately, better than most.’
He smiled at this catalogue of virtues. ‘Amy, it is not enough. You remember before we were married, I said I would help Henry Fielding in some way?’
‘Yes, but he died.’
‘His brother, Sir John, has taken over where he left off. The Bow Street Runners are becoming a body to be reckoned with. They are rapidly gaining stature, but we are no nearer a police force. Before you can arrest anyone, you have to seek them out and prove their guilt, which is often beyond the power of the Runners.’
‘I know.’ She sighed a little, but she knew him through and through. He loved her and their children, she did not doubt it, but he was the sort of man who felt he had a duty to society and he would never shirk his duty. ‘What does Sir John want you to do?’
‘It is not what Sir John wants exactly. You know in the last three years he has asked me several times to employ my skills to track down a criminal who has been causing mayhem and no one else able to bring him to book for lack of evidence or because he hides himself too well. I have obliged him a few times.’ He smiled suddenly, a smile that could always melt her heart. ‘I am rather good at it, you know.’
‘I know you are. So, go on.’
‘The government is not disposed to fund an extension of the powers of the Runners and local constables, so I was thinking—only with your support, of course—that I would gather together a group of like-minded gentlemen prepared to give their time and re sources to the catching of criminals—’
‘Thieftakers,’ she interrupted him with a laugh.
‘You could say that. I think of them as crime solvers.’
‘Crime solvers,’ she repeated, attentive because he was obviously serious about it and had been mulling it over for some time. No doubt he had wanted to wait until after John was born before mentioning it to her. ‘How would you make it work?’
‘We would be approached by the public who have been the target of criminals, or by reference from Sir John or Lord Trentham to take on sticky cases. I spoke to them about it and they are in favour. We would meet some where perhaps once a month to start with.’
‘Here?’
‘No, definitely not here. I do not want my family involved in any way. This is a haven of peace and must remain so. I suggested Bow Street, but though Sir John said it was possible, he did not think it would do to be too closely allied to the Runners. We need to be an entirely in de pen dent organisation.’
‘I agree, my darling. If—no, when you are successful, they might want to take you over, dictate how you work and that would never do.’
‘So you have no objection?’
‘No, my darling. After all, it was how we met, in a manner of speaking, and for that I shall be eternally grateful.’ She smiled, as she spoke. ‘But do you think you could wait until after the christening?’
He detected a teasing note in her voice, but chose to answer seriously. ‘I did not mean I was going to rush off tomorrow. I need to find some where to hold the meetings first. And I need to speak to one or two others. Harry Portman, for one. I am sure he could be useful. And there is Sir Ashley Saunders. He is the son of one of my father’s friends, just down from Cambridge. I met him last time I was in London and he was idling his time away, flirting with the Season’s débutantes. He could do with something useful to occupy him. And no doubt there are others.’
‘You have thought it all out, haven’t you?’
‘It has been on my mind, I admit,’ he said, raising the palm of her hand to his lips. ‘Crime is a scourge and is growing rather than diminishing. Something needs to be done.’
‘Those you have named are wealthy members of the aristocracy,’ she said, noting that only hours after having a child this wonderful husband of hers could still rouse her with a kiss; she had a feeling John James would not be the last of their brood. ‘You need one or two others, the kind that can go into places where gentlemen would be too conspicuous.’
‘Ever my practical wife,’ he said, laughing. ‘So you support the idea?’
‘Of course. My only concern is that you should be safe.’
‘I will take no unnecessary risks, I promise. And you are right, about the men. Shall I ask Sam Roker?’
‘He would be ideal. He is entirely honest and understands your ways.’ She had had Sam in mind from the beginning; he was a faithful servant and would do anything for James and help to keep him from harm.
‘I will put it to him.’ He rose and bent to kiss her lips. ‘Now, you must rest.’
‘I will, but, James…’
‘Yes, my darling?’
‘You will sleep with me, won’t you? You will not take any notice of the nurse and that fussy old doctor. I want you at my side.’
‘Wild horses would not keep me away.’ He kissed her again and quietly left the room to go up to the nursery and take a peek at his children as they slept. ‘I pray you grow up in a trouble-free world,’ he murmured. ‘And if I can do anything towards that, I will.’
And so, a few weeks after the christening of John James, which everyone in the village attended, including Amy’s aunts and mother, James’s parents, his brother and their ever-growing brood, the Society for the Discovery and Apprehension of Criminals was born. They met in a room in Lord Trentham’s Piccadilly home where they under took commissions, inter viewed victims, decided which cases to pursue and reported on the outcome of their enquiries. The success of this venture was confirmed when a communication was brought to James one morning telling him he had been ennobled for his services to law and order, and was now Baron Drymore of Highbeck.
James realised their fame was spreading when he was approached by several young titled gentlemen asking if they might join the Society—which had come to be known as the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club by the public, a tongue-in-cheek reference to the mainly aristocratic members of the group.
‘Some are simply looking for adventure and some, I think, will not deal well with sensitive issues,’ he told Amy. Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, his heart remained at Highbeck and he was never away from home for long. Leaving his associates to pursue whatever cases they had on their books, he would rush back to Amy and his children. It was a time-consuming journey and he often thought about leasing a London home, at least for part of the year, but that might put his family too close to his work, which could put them in danger. Besides, Amy loved Highbeck and it was a perfect place to bring up children. He had bought a new steel-sprung carriage to make the journey more comfortable and spent the time reading papers about the cases they had on hand and mulling over the latest requests. ‘We need to weed them out. And they need to be of independent means. We charge only expenses and sometimes not that if the supplicant is poor. There must be no hint of taking rewards.’
‘Is that what you have been doing this week?’
‘Yes. There is one who looks promising. Jonathan, Viscount Leinster, heir to the Earl of Chastonbury. He has a good head on his shoulders. I have said I will give him a trial.’
The children had been put to bed and she was sitting on his lap, her arms about his neck. They often sat like that when they were alone, but she was heavy with their third child and his legs were becoming numb. He
tipped her off him on to the sofa beside him and stretched his legs. ‘Darling, I do think you might be giving birth to an elephant this time.’
She laughed and kissed him. ‘Which should you like, a male elephant or a female one?’
‘I do not mind in the least which it is. All I want is for you to be safely delivered.’
‘There is no reason why I should not be. The other two were perfectly straight for ward. Are you going to forget the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club for a few weeks to stay with me until this elephant is born?’
‘Most decidedly I am.’
Two weeks later, Charlotte Matilda made her presence felt at seven o’clock in the evening. She was a plump, healthy baby, but very far from being an elephant. The midwife knew better now than to try to bar James from the room. He was there as soon as he heard her cry. She was noisier than the other two had been, screwing up her face and letting out a wail that could be heard all over the house. He picked her up and laughed, walking about the room with her until she stopped. ‘Let’s get the other two in and see what they make of her,’ he said, handing her back to her mother.
All five were soon spread across Amy’s bed. ‘Do you think we could be the happiest family in the kingdom?’ Amy asked softly.
James reached over to kiss his beloved wife. ‘In the whole world,’ he smiled.
Author Note
I hope you enjoyed reading The Captain’s Mysterious Lady, which is the first in a series of books with the same theme: how law and order was (or was not) kept in Georgian times. There was no regular police force, the streets were pa trolled by the watch, appointed by the parish. Above them were unpaid parish constables, who could arrest suspects and bring them before a justice. The justice could try and punish minor crimes or decide to send the accused to the assizes for trial. When Henry Fielding was appointed Chief Magistrate of Westminster in 1749 he set up the Bow Street Runners and after he died his brother Sir John, the blind magistrate, continued his work, but their remit was limited. There was no such thing as a detective force.
My heroes, beginning with James Drymore, are all honest gentlemen, who have formed them selves into the Society for the Discovery and Apprehending of Criminals known as the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club. Its members are all rich enough not to require payment for their services but if a client is particularly wealthy, then any fee they offer is given immediately to charity. Not for the Piccadilly Gentlemen the taking of bribes as other thief takers were known to do; they do it for the love of adventure and to make the country a safer place for its inhabitants.
In solving the mysteries I have set for them, each finds the love of his life. James is now happily settled with his Amy and in the next book, Jonathan—Viscount Leinster, one of the Piccadilly Gentlemen—finds himself on the trail of a young lady who has gone missing after overhearing a shocking secret about her birth.
Look for Viscount Leinster’s story. Coming soon.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8496-2
THE CAPTAIN’S MYSTERIOUS LADY
Copyright © 2010 by Mary Nichols
First North American Publication 2011
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*The Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club
