Death of a Fop (Bow Street Consultant series Book 1)

by Sarah Waldock

  The talk was of Mr Armitage.

  Fowler was holding forth.

  “If you ask me he’s a bleedin’ gent, whatever his birth might be; learned it military fashion. And he’s devoted to the mistress’ interests. Wouldn’t mind betting he’s half sweet on her. And gawd help us he can keep that fancy piece in order! Not that she’s as loud and brazen as I was afeared she might be mind” he added.

  “Ar, you’m a fair man, Mr Fowler” said Mrs Ketch “Pore little body, I took her up her supper account she retired early and she said I reminded her of her ma; she’s hem cut up about the master’s death.”

  There was a giggle from Juliet.

  “Well he knew how to kiss a girl” she said. “Any girl he paid attention to would miss him.”

  An awful silence ensued.

  “You my girl are no better than you ought to be” said Mrs Ketch majestically.

  “And a disruptive influence and a bad example to young Molly here” said Fowler. “It’s just as well you are getting your marching orders. Oh, don’t look so worried; the mistress asked if there was anything positive she might say about you. It’s my belief she don’t miss nothing; and she knew about you making eyes at the master.”

  Jane, feeling slightly giddy, wished she did not know now; but a reputation for omniscience with the servants was always good.

  She withdrew and made something of a noise descending the stairs a second time.

  The servants all rose respectfully as a body as she walked in and she smiled kindly.

  “You all know that I shall be cutting down my household” she said “Fowler will have explained to you that I do not need so many servants; Palmer, I shall be selling the horse, and I hope you will stay until I have done so even if you get a position rapidly. Here are your characters; which of course you are at liberty to read. I should consider it improper to seal them. And may I offer, Juliet, a word of advice; making obvious overtures to the master or a son of the house is going to be your fastest way to fail to keep a position. Otherwise I wish you, as I wish Palmer and Emerson, the best of luck in finding good new situations.”

  The three who were to leave murmured thanks and took their written characters with becoming humility; though Juliet concealed impudent anger.

  Jane lingered long enough outside the door when she left to hear Fowler say “Told you so you scheming hussy!”

  She had to consider the implication of something else Fowler had said; that Mr Armitage might be, in his idiom, sweet on her. Well, Fowler had been incorrect in his summation that she had known about Juliet flirting with Frank; so it was entirely likely that he should be incorrect in this also.

  It was a little unfortunate that her reiteration of her own supposed omniscience also boosted Fowler’s reputation as an oracle; but something that she, and Mr Armitage, would have to live with.

  Jane was sitting in the Parlour trying to read – she felt very unsettled – when a carriage pulled up outside. She glanced out and gasped.

  Why it looked like Mr George Knightley’s carriage – had Emma come after all? It was most injudicious of her if she had, for Emma was surely at an uncomfortable stage of being in an interesting condition!

  Jane looked out of the window shamelessly filled with curiosity.

  Yes, it was James, the Hartfield coachman driving; and Mr Knightley who alighted first, turning to hand someone else out… not Emma, but dear Aunt Hetty!

  Jane felt quite overwhelmed; of all the people in the world who could help her to feel better, it was Aunt Hetty, that mainstay of her childhood, a loving constant in an inconstant world. Jane ran downstairs to go to the door for herself, etiquette and proper behaviour forgotten in her joy to open the door and, as Miss Bates opened her mouth in surprise at the door opening before she had rung the bell, drew her in to embrace her warmly. Fowler had heard the door open and came up looking faintly disapproving.

  “Oh Fowler, such a wonderful surprise; this is Miss Bates who has stood in the place of a mother to me, my dear Aunt Hetty!” she said “Please bring in her baggage, and any of Mr Knightley’s who has driven her here and have Palmer show James to the mews; Miss Bates must have the red room. Oh I suppose that should go to Mr Knightley….”

  “I wasn't planning on staying overnight” said Mr Knightley, following Miss Bates in. “But I thought perhaps to render you assistance in any business matters you need a man’s hand for. I will not stay away from Emma or Mr Woodhouse more than a day however.”

  “No of course not; how kind you are!” cried Jane. “Oh but what of grandmother?”

  “Oh my dear Jane! How peaked you look!” said Miss Bates “But indeed, Mr Knightley is all kindness; he and dear Emma, Mrs Knightley I should say, arranged it all between them when you wrote to Emma; you are a kind girl not to want to worry ME but I must scold you for it nonetheless, my dear Jane, for who is to help you bear problems but your own family? But I was telling you, Emma had a wonderful idea that mother should stay with them at Hartfield, is that not GENEROUS of her? Such a gracious house, a PLEASURE and an HONOUR for my mother to spend time under its roof; and Mr Knightley has volunteered his services to bring me to you in your HOUR of NEED my DEAR Jane, and to be a SUPPORT to you!”

  “Oh Aunt Hetty, nobody could be a better support than you!” cried Jane, embracing her aunt again and drawing her into the parlour. “We shall drink tea; you must be cold!”

  “Oh not in the least; for though it was a long journey Mr Knightley made sure I had a hot brick at my feet and wrapped me well with rugs; it may be a drear February outside but I assure you the coach was QUITE COSY – why thank you” said Miss Bates, throwing a grateful look at Mr Knightley as she took off her wrap and her old hair-brown pelisse to hand to Fowler with her thanks. Unlike Jane Miss Bates had mourning clothes laid away, and if the style of her black worsted gown was some ten years out of date it was at least refurbished since she had first made it up for her sister, Jane’s mother, more than a decade before that. There was no sense after all in wasting a good wool gown.

  “And if I may, Mrs Churchill, I should like to ask if there is any commission I might carry out for you” said Mr Knightley, passing his beaver and greatcoat to Fowler with a nod of thanks.

  “Oh Mr Knightley! If you would, I should like to see the horse sold; and if Palmer might go with you, it may be that a situation for him might be found with its new owner” said Jane “Mr Armitage was going to see to finding someone who knew horseflesh but he has his duty……” she flushed at the raised eyebrow “It is nothing improper, Mr Knightley; Mr Armitage is a Bow Street Runner; he is investigating Frank’s murder and is staying here in case the villains who killed him should also stage an attack upon my person for there is reason to suppose that they might. But he has too to follow up clues. Oh dear; and there is someone else staying here, who is sleeping late; and though it reflects badly on Frank, dear Aunt Hetty I beg that you not judge her too harshly for she did not know that Frank was married when he took her under his protection…”

  “Jane, am I to suppose,” said Mr Knightley in some shock, “that you are entertaining Frank’s ladybird?”

  Jane flushed.

  “She is scarce more than a child and she too was in danger” she said. “Oh I cannot tell you in a hurry what Frank was involved in; but it has put anyone associated with him in danger. And I cannot leave that poor helpless girl to fend for herself; she has had to do so more than enough.”

  “Your generous nature as always does you credit” said Mr Knightley “And I hope you will not regret it. Perhaps I may speak to this young person later and make my own judgement.”

  “You can speak to me now, Mister swell cove” said Dolly coming in the door. “And you ain’t got no call to be so top-lofty; Missus Churchill is right down nice and I won’t stand to hear you call her down fer bein’ good ter me.”

  “Oh you poor child” cried Miss Bates; for dressed in a simple muslin round gown with her hair loose and no makeup on her face – Ella had re
fused to pack any – Dolly looked very young and the wound on her face livid and painful looking added to her air of vulnerability.

  Mr Knightley gave her a smile.

  “Why your loyalty to Jane – Mrs Churchill – is a credit to you; though I should like to know more about you.”

  “Awright; though I telled Mrs Churchill my story” said Dolly. She told it again; baldly as before with no embellishment and Mr Knightley nodded, believing that straightforward tale, compassion in his face.

  “An unfortunate tale,” he said, “but I am sure that Mrs Churchill will look after you well. I shall go now to Tattersall’s to see about selling your horse, Jane; do not set luncheon for me, I shall eat out. There are some excellent ordinaries about the town where I may get a good meal. I hope to be back for dinner and then I shall set off. Is there anything more I may do?”

  “If you would drop in to Chorleigh, Wright and Jekyll and ask them how the matter progresses over my continued income I should be grateful” said Jane “Having a gentleman to conduct business does tend to mean it is actually conducted.”

  “I shall be glad to do so” said Mr Knightley. Jane did not exaggerate in suggesting that letting the solicitors know that a gentleman took an interest in her affairs would be likely to make them take her business more seriously than if they thought her a lone woman to be palmed off with excuse and roundaboutation. He would also drop a word in his brother’s ear; Mr John Knightley being in the legal profession himself and more than capable of holding his own with any lawyer.

  Chapter 11

  Caleb Armitage arrived just as Jane had finished giving Miss Bates a somewhat edited version of what had been happening; she loved her Aunt Hetty dearly, but the garrulous woman might be expected to spread everything she knew to anyone she took a liking to, not to mention all around Highbury on her return home. Jane had her pride. That Frank had a mistress was an unavoidable thing to mention; Dolly was, after all, ridiculously ingenuous for a girl in an Unfortunate Profession and would cheerfully tell Miss Bates everything about her relationship with Frank; but as Dolly was herself rather hazy about what Frank had been involved with, Jane might readily tell Miss Bates that he had been foolish and had become mixed up with some jewel thieves who were threatening him into doing some illegal work for them and they had killed him for not doing all that they wanted; and that Mr Armitage was trying to find out who ‘they’ were.

  If indeed, she thought there was more than the one man who had been harming Dolly. Though Dolly had said he had spoken of a boss, reflected Jane, trying to recall all that the girl had sobbed out, saying that the boss wanted to know where the necklace was.

  Jane rose when Fowler announced Mr Armitage and held out a hand to him; which he clasped with polite minimum lightness.

  “Fowler, will you bring tea for Mr Armitage and myself in the book room? We shall repair there to discuss his findings” she said “Mr Armitage, permit me to make you known to my Aunt; Aunt Hetty, this is Mr Armitage. Mr Armitage, Miss Bates, who brought me up.”

  “Enchanted” said Caleb taking Miss Bates’ hand in a greeting clasp “And if it is not bold, may I say Miss Bates, that Mrs Churchill is a credit to your rearing; the finest lady I have ever met and I have met a few swell morts – I mean fine ladies – in my time.”

  “Oh Mr Armitage! She is the FINEST lady in the world; and so clever and accomplished!” declared Miss Bates, perceiving only recognition of her darling and failing to see any compliment to herself, being a modest woman.

  “Oh Aunt Hetty!” said Jane, flushing. “Mr Armitage you are an outrageous flatterer but I am most pleased that your flattery extends to my Aunt who is worthy of the greatest praise; to bring up her dead sister’s child without thought for herself is something for which I am eternally grateful! But I hear Fowler with the tea tray, for you have been looked for; let us retire to the book room.”

  Caleb followed her and waited for Fowler to pour boiling water on the tea. When the footman had left he said quietly, “It wasn’t flattery you know, Mrs Churchill; I have met many ladies of higher birth and lower gentility than yourself both serving my gentleman in the army AND since I have been sent to deal with the gentry out of Bow Street – account of my superior accent” he added with a rueful smile. “Many have been rude to me for my subordinate position; you, like a true lady, are as polite to low as to high.”

  Jane flushed at his look of admiration.

  Could Fowler have been right? Well right or wrong, the best course was to behave in the same way; as any lady should.

  “Mr Armitage, I cannot see that I have any reason to be anything but civil to you; even if you fell into the mistake of believing me responsible for my husband’s death, I should consider it ill bred to curse you for a natural error. When you do your best to aid me, how can I be anything but pleased and filled with gratitude that there is an organisation to undertake this unpleasant but necessary work? And to be grateful too to you.”

  “There is no need to be grateful,” said Caleb, “for it is my work; my duty and, when there is so fine a person as yourself distressed by lawlessness, my pleasure to do all I may.”

  “Then I shall feel no personal gratitude but merely pleasure that you are here to aid me” said Jane. “And on that score, you may be relieved of having to deal with finding a purchaser for my husband’s mount; for Mr Knightley, a long time friend of my dear aunt and grandmother, has driven my Aunt Hetty and has undertaken to dispose of the beast and too to make representation to Mr Chorleigh concerning my income.”

  Caleb felt and looked a little chagrined; whilst his common sense acknowledged that this was probably for the best.

  “This is why I am most sincerely sorry that I am not a gentleman to help you” he said. “Though Fowler has told me the secret of an upper crust accent!”

  “Fowler has the most upper crust accent of anyone I know,” said Jane and gave something akin to a giggle, “ and I have often wondered if he was the side issue of some aristocrat.”

  “No, he can slip to the tones of Southwark if much moved; he recommends that I practice speaking with a rounded pebble in my mouth. It occurred to me that a glass marble or one of true marble stone such as small boys play with might do just as well, one of the big ones. Fowler is living proof that it works very well.”

  “A fascinating insight into him!” admired Jane “Are you going to do so?”

  “Yes ma’am, I am; it can be useful being able to pass as a gentleman. And perhaps your good offices will advise me in matters of dress; for I have some savings. And moreover though I am not permitted to take a reward from private persons – such as this reward that has been set up by those who have been robbed of jewellery – we are paid a reward for successful convictions of any we apprehend, and to have more versatility means I would then have a greater ability to support that appearance as a gentleman for I should take more thieves.”

  “It seems to me, Mr Armitage,” said Jane, “that you have overcome the greatest hurdle of seeming – indeed becoming – a gentleman in your delicacy of feelings and politeness and chivalry which cannot be readily simulated. Though I fear, alas, you are correct in assuming that most will interpret speech and appearance before even considering your manner. I hope you may succeed; but please be aware that I consider you a gentleman in all those things that are important. And be assured I will advise you to the best of my ability; though perhaps again the indispensable Fowler might also be knowledgeable on gentlemen’s attire.”

  Caleb flushed feeling suddenly bashful.

  “You are very kind” he muttered. “Here, let me tell you what I have found out” he went on hastily. “I have obtained as full a list as I may of all Dutchmen living in London; it may be incomplete. I have discarded all those who are employed as artisans in trades other than jewellery businesses; and labourers too. I cannot see that Mr Churchill would refer to anyone as a ‘friend’ who could not at least go to those places where he could rub shoulders with gentlemen and support the ap
parent position AS a gentleman. There are places where any might meet – milling kens, that’s houses where fights are arranged – and at fights, at cock fights, at the races, at dog fights and the like. And our job to break up pretty much everything but the races for being illegal. But still…the way you described it I think the Dutchman we are looking for is at least wealthy appearing.”

  “I do agree; my recollection of the way Frank spoke of him is of a man he would consider within his social sphere” said Jane. “With a little contempt for a foreigner. Frank would have spoken more disparagingly – and with a bitter overtone – had he been beholden to one he considered a definite inferior. He made a joke about him not being a tulip of fashion – that is, it would not be someone of really acceptable social standing according to the Ton; but he said nothing more disparaging than that – one infers a wealthy tradesman with whom Frank would be prepared to take a meal, or to greet in the street.”

  Caleb nodded.

  “Thank you for confirming my view; you know Mr Churchill and his reactions as of course I do not. I have narrowed down the list to three master jewellers, two journeyman jewellers – who might be involved though I doubt either might be the one Mr Churchill spoke to - a gentleman, and an importer of Dutch bulbs. I have included the last because he has much traffic with the continent; and that means that the passing of jewels back and forth might be possible, perhaps hidden in packets of bulbs. It is perhaps fanciful but I did not wish to ignore the idea.”

  “Far better that you should consider every possibility” said Jane. “What of their initials?”

  “None directly agree” said Caleb “So I thought it best to include all; and it is a very rounded and flourishing signature of initials; and I felt I had to consider I had read the initials wrongly – or indeed that the Dutchman loaned your husband the money to buy back his own vowels from whoever actually held them, rather than having bought them out for himself. Moreover the Dutch in England often make small changes to the names they use in business whilst signing themselves by their true names; anglicising the spelling, leaving out a ‘de’ or’van’. Here is the list.”