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

by Sarah Waldock

  Caleb grunted in relief as the bandage kept the wound somewhat compressed; and sighed in greater relief as Jane laid his forearm up across his chest to rest on the other shoulder and tied a sling to hold it.

  “That should do very nicely,” she said, “we can send for a doctor in the morning.”

  “If you think I want to see any damn sawbones….” said Caleb “Oh I was thinking of sending for a proper physician,” said Jane, “but if you dislike the idea very much we shall defer the decision until the morning; it is,” she added as though in an aside to Fowler, “a necessary thing to humour the patient lest he fall into a fever.”

  “You’re a damned managing wench, Mrs Churchill” said Caleb. “Here, Fowler, is that fellow over there dead?”

  “Yes Mr Armitage; I fancy it must be beginner’s luck” said Fowler “And I’m afeared I’m going to shoot the cat.”

  He certainly looked green enough to be expected to vomit.

  “Rise above it, brother of a soldier!” said Caleb. “You might as well stick him in the coal cellar; here, let me have a look at his face first” he half rose.

  “Fowler will lift his head for you” said Jane.

  “Sorry madam but Fowler will not” said Fowler, fleeing.

  Caleb got up and came over, grunting slightly.

  “As I thought,” he said, “this is the fellow who was torturing Dorothy. Well he won’t do anything of the kind again.”

  “Indeed no; and I must give Fowler a bonus for so excellent a shot” said Jane. “He will be quite a hero with Dorothy!”

  “S’welp me, better him than me” said Caleb. “This other don’t look a whole lot better character; whatever else. I reckon these precious pair are the ones that did for your husband. That was quite a baste on the costard you gave him; I doubt he’ll wake afore daylight. Here, let me reload the barker Fowler’s left lying about so careless; with one arm useless I can’t guarantee to throw this fellow in with out other prisoner and stop Jimmy the slum trying something on. You keep the barker pointed at him and I guarantees yer, there ain’t nothin’ so scary as a woman with a pistol.”

  “Why?” asked Jane.

  “Because women is held to be nervous with loud noises and to shut their eyes and pull the trigger anywise; which could mean an injury a lot worse than death, especially as a woman is generally weak and can’t aim as high” said Caleb. “Just take it from me that a barking-iron in the hands of any mort is a scary business” he added hastily.

  He half dragged the unconscious man to the storeroom where James Ripon was incarcerated; and Jane held the pistol resolutely on the startled captive.

  “Gawd, wot have yer done to O’Toole?” he demanded, shocked “Where’s Smudger?”

  “Well, well, quite the happy family” said Caleb. “Anyone else you’d care to name for me while you’re about it?”

  Ripon went green.

  “No fear,” he said, “they’d bloody kill me.”

  “Well you’re for the queer ken at least and most likely dancing at Beilby’s ball” said Caleb cheerfully. “And knowing what your mate Smudger did to one man and tried to do to a girl, I’d happily watch you dancing on the nubbing-cheat” and he swung the door back on the frightened man.

  “And now” said Jane “You will go to bed. Fowler!” as the footman returned “All are safe bar the body; perhaps you will lock the door to the kitchen until the morning so that you might explain; and run for a constable. And on a Sunday they may not be there!” she said.

  “Tomorrow, Mrs Churchill, I will be equal to deal with anything” said Fowler majestically.

  “Good man” said Caleb. “And yes ma’am, I am now going!”

  Chapter 19

  Jane hardly expected to sleep after the night alarums; but she woke up to Ella’s cheerful voice asking if it were to be considered a normal feature of entertaining a Bow Street Runner to find bodies in the kitchen.

  Jane sat up.

  “Ella, you were not surely permitted into the kitchen before that horrid thing had gone?”

  “Mrs Jane I was not; and nor should you have been! You should have woken me; what is the good of me sleeping in your dressing room if not to be woken to support you? And that wretched man has taken a fever!”

  “I was afraid he might” said Jane. “What has the magnificent Fowler managed to do about tea and toast with that on the floor?”

  “Magnificent Fowler! I’ll magnificent him!” said Ella “Putting on airs because he shot a common housebreaker! He went and got some street urchins and paid them to get a barrow to take the body to Bow Street with a letter in his own hand, mark you, written in Mr Armitage’s name that they were to take it in charge and send a constable to collect the prisoners. Hah!”

  “I wager at that it was at Mr Armitage’s suggestion,” said Jane mildly, “feverish or no. I must go and look at my patient; write a note for me to Doctor….. no, I did not like Doctor Wingfield. Dear me, how very provoking!”

  “Mrs Jane dearie, there’s nothing wrong with Mr Armitage that we can’t cure and a doctor can’t charge for killing,” said Ella, “and I do grant you, though I wasn’t sure at first, he is worth saving. And though I’ve had more upsets in the last few days than is considered proper in a decent household, well you can’t complain that it is dull. Lawks, though, I’m glad it wasn't me hitting that fellow on the head!”

  “Ella, you are sweet to me, but don’t you think that you ought to be ashamed of your reticence?” asked Jane.

  Ella flushed but laughed, glad that her mistress was in a good enough mood to be moved to irony.

  “Madam must have her little joke” she said. “Miss Bates is all agog to hear all about it.”

  Jane smiled.

  “Dear Aunt Hetty; I fancy she is quite enjoying herself bar the strain of the funeral” she said. “I will go to her when I have attended Mr Armitage. He will eat gruel; milk gruel but gruel. And if he behaves himself I may permit him a restorative pork broth.”

  Ella had her own ideas on what Mr Armitage might think about that; she also had the opinion that her mistress would win the encounter.

  “Gruel and bedrest or I get a doctor in to bleed you,” said Jane, “and I’m not sure that bleeding might not be a bad idea anyway; it lets out the evil humours of a wound.”

  “I lost enough blood thank you,” said Caleb, “if I lose any more I shall turn into a revenant and haunt your house for eternity moaning and rattling chains or whatever such unnatural wights do.”

  “I doubt anyone would notice the difference after last night,” said Jane, “which as the rest of the household contrived to sleep through it means there would be little point to such a doleful and macabre exercise. Here is your gruel; when you have eaten it I shall check your wound. If you do not eat it I shall send for a military surgeon.”

  “Madam, you are a cruel woman” said Caleb “I believe I have been laid up under the sign of the cat’s foot!”

  “Indeed you have, Mr Armitage” said Jane smiling at him.

  “Jane-girl, if you smile at me like that, I’ll eat any damnable slop you put in front of me” Caleb asseverated. Jane blushed.

  “Why the poor man is feverish indeed” she said lightly. “Caleb, I wish you will permit Ella and me to nurse you without making a fight of it; I am not unaccustomed to sick nursing, though I confess never of one wounded by a bullet before.”

  “I’ll try to behave Jane-girl,” said Caleb, “even for Ella; for I fear if I refuse her ministrations you might withdraw yours.”

  “I should certainly have to consider it; for you are a contrary creature, Mr Armitage” said Jane.

  “Oh but Mrs Churchill, I do have my faults also” said Caleb.

  Jane gave permission for the servants to stay away from church if they found themselves too overset by the events of the night; or possibly too excited and eager to see the developments.

  A pair of constables turned up to relieve the household of its prisoners, one of whom was sullen and t
ruculent the other still groggy from a combination of Jane’s blow from the candlestick and the bruising he had taken already from Caleb wrestling with him in the darkness. He was complaining in the idiom of Ireland that he needed a priest.

  “Sure, for joy, and aren’t I wounded t’death so I am; wirra that I should die unshriven loike yu pagan English!”

  Needless to say the constables ignored his complaints.

  “It’s my dooty, ma’am, ter talk ter Mr Armitage,” said one of the constables staring at the ceiling rather than seem impudent enough to meet Jane’s eye, “this bein’ his case and nowise anyone wishful to push in on it; but I needs to report as ‘ow ‘e’s still in the land of the living, see.”

  “Oh quite so” said Jane. These men were a far cry from Caleb’s relatively gentlemanly bearing; and they were too far more bashful in the house of a...how would they phrase it, gentry mort, thought Jane. She led them both to see Caleb.

  “Visitors for you, Mr Armitage” she said gaily as she opened his bedroom door after a swift knock; to forestall any flippant and indeed flirtatious comment that might arise to his lips for seeing her enter first. She stood at the bottom of the bed while the men mumbled apologies to Caleb for disturbing him “Listen you men,” said Caleb, “them gaolbirds wot you’re taking in; you keep ‘em safe, see? I don’t want ‘em piking off because sure as eggs is eggs they’ll be the next ones to end up dead and no good as witnesses if you lose ‘em. Is that clear?”

  “Yuss Mr Armitage” nodded the least monosyllabic of the pair.

  “Good; because while they’re kept safe – and incommunicado if you can manage it, strewth I mean nobody didn’t ought to be let talk to them, nor they to each other if the Paddy is conscious and as sensible as any Irishman may ever be,” he added, seeing looks of incomprehension, “ – then Mrs Churchill and her household are also relatively safe. But look, Tobias!” he addressed the spokesman “You can give out that I am shot; and make as gloomy noises about it as you like. I ain’t about to turn up me toes, but if there’s them as think I might be, well we might get further, see?”

  “Ar” said Tobias.

  “Well that’s a relief to be rid of them” said Caleb when Jane returned to see how he had born the visit.

  “The prisoners or the constables?” asked Jane tartly “For the latter do not seem to be of your calibre in the least.”

  “Well they are only constables of the watch not officers of the law” said Caleb. “A relief to be rid of both I’d say. I feared a rescue if it became known the prisoners were here; if there is a master mind behind the jewel thefts – and I believe there is – then he could easily hire a small army of ruffians to storm this house on a quiet Sunday and either remove or silence Jimmy Ripon and his friend O’Toole. I think O’Toole and the man called Smudger – his name is almost certainly Smith, as it’s a common nickname – were the strong arm men. Now such are easily replaced; but we may hope, if I am thought to be at death’s door, that you may receive a visit from the nib cove himself. And if not, perhaps a visit to him might be in order. I strongly suspect that our precious birds will stand buff, refuse to talk; possibly because they fear the boss more than they fear the law. Though we might let loose your pretty eyes on the Irishman; they are notoriously tough nuts to crack but full of sentiment; a few tears over the terrible things done to your husband might do the trick.”

  Jane considered. She had stiffened at the compliment to her pretty eyes but what Caleb said did make sense.

  “We shall see what develops” she said. “Better not to go out of my way to provoke a reaction until we see if this master mind tries to act first; for I will not go near him, nor O’Toole without you nearby and that is impractical until you are healed and will besides give away that you are not so near death’s door as we wish them to think.”

  He nodded.

  “Cogently put my dear Mrs Churchill…. might I have a drop of laudanum? This arm throbs some’at cruel now I be better enough to notice it.”

  “Of a certainly, Mr Armitage” said Jane. “I believe you refused it to Ella earlier.”

  “Yes; I wanted to be sensible to talk to any idiots who came to see me” said Caleb. “Well they’ve been; and I doubt anything much will happen before tomorrow. So I may take the opportunity to recuperate.”

  Jane decided to fill in her Aunt Hetty on all that was going on.

  Miss Bates glowed pink with excitement as Jane revealed the whole story.

  “Oh Jane! Oh if it were not that it has caused you misery and poor Frank lying dead so foully done away with – though I must say my blood boils that he has proved so false in more ways than just adultery, not that JUST is quite the word to use, for it is serious enough – where was I? Oh yes, if there were not so many horrid aspects to this, it must seem quite like a horrid romance of the kind that one might find in a circulating library, quite unrealistic of course but SUCH an entertaining read as they may be!”

  “It is easier to deal with if one can but imagine oneself living in a novel” said Jane. “For my own part the puzzle of untangling the villain of this piece is the way that I might more readily cope with the unusual and indeed nightmarish situation.”

  She had explained that she and Mr Armitage believed one of the three jewellers to be involved at least in the jewellery thefts; and Miss Bates was torn between being thrilled at having actually been in the presence of a master criminal and a little shocked.

  “Mr Armitage did not ought to permit you to take such risks, dear Jane!” she said.

  “He prefers, I think,” said Jane, “to permit me to collaborate with his investigation and taking such risks, over knowing that I should probably investigate on my own if he did not; and that would put me in greater danger. I need to do this, Aunt Hetty.”

  “I find it hard, my dear, to truly understand why it matters to you so much; if Frank was so unkind to you, why do you care about finding his killers?” Miss Bates was puzzled.

  Jane stared down at her hands, passive in her lap, willpower keeping them still.

  “Because, Aunt Hetty, I feel some guilt that perhaps I might have managed to change his nature had I not turned away from him so soon, decided that as he did not love me I should not need to care for him; indeed I made life harder for him in petty revenges for his despite towards me. I do not know if I could have been a better wife to him and saved him from this; but you have taught me to view everyone with charity and so I feel I should try to find charity for Frank; and do my best to prevent these terrible people killing other men, those who perhaps are merely foolish enough to get into debt and yet have a much loved family. I cannot put it clearly; I am sorry.”

  “My dear, DEAR Jane!” Miss Bates embraced her “You are good to try to understand his faults; it is harder for me to forgive him for it is my dear niece whom he has hurt and it is easier to forgive those who wrong ourselves than those who wrong those we love; and it is so very like you to also consider the feelings of others hurt by these villains! But I pray you, do, my dear Jane, PLEASE take care!”

  Chapter 20

  Jane was doing the accounts in the book room on Monday morning when Fowler announced Mr Churchill.

  “Well Jane!” said Mr Churchill “This is indeed a sad and sorry business! Frank murdered you write; though had he committed suicide over your profligacy I should have been less surprised!”

  Jane stared open mouthed; then anger drove her to speech.

  “My profligacy? I assure you sir it was not I who lost two thousand guineas in some gaming hell, nor I who maintained a mistress; indeed your nephew saw fit to chastise me when I tried to make economies! You dare to accuse me when I have tried my hardest to maintain the outsize household Frank considered necessary and when I have had to sew to create modish dresses when he believed me out shopping to avoid his punishment for looking dowdy? When I have had good nourishing food thrown at me because it is not the most fashionable cut? Indeed sir, I blame you in some measure for Frank’s death for had you
apprised me of his request to you for the sum I might, by use of the knowledge of the same, have been able to use sweet reason on Frank to accept that economies were necessary; or had you posted down then to find out what was wrong you might have had some influence on him; instead of which he has engaged in dishonesty to pay his debts the result of which means that his crooked friends have had him killed; and I am in no inconsiderable danger since they erroneously believe me to be in possession of something he stole from them! Yes, sir, stole! Frank stooped to common theft, it appears, no doubt with the casuistry that as he stole from thieves it did not count!”

  Jasper Churchill had gone grey and he sank into a chair.

  “Jane – no, I cannot believe this!” he cried.

  “Well sir if you will call me a liar, I suggest you go through my accounts and through all of Frank’s papers in the escritoire” said Jane “I have tried to put them into some semblance of order. I wish you joy of it; but I will not remain here with you to call me a liar.”

  “Jane; I apologise; I did not mean to call you a liar. I meant merely that I found it hard to believe that Frank could be so…so… lost to shame and what is due to his name!” cried Mr Churchill. “I had assumed that a poverty stricken girl, given an allowance such as I paid Frank had had her head turned in the big city with all the shops and entertainments available….”

  “Still my integrity is impugned,” said Jane coldly, “and I will leave you to believe the evidence of your own eyes what may be my fault and what not. Since I saw some half of the allowance you paid Frank from which to make the household run, you will see I have very little over with which to enjoy much in the way of shopping and entertainment; since that also covered the cost of keeping Frank’s horse. I shall have tea sent to you; good morning.”