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

by Sarah Waldock

  Jane murmured that she was glad that the idea suited and added that it did not seem quite the conversation to go with toast and conserve of apricots even if there were no gentlemen present at the moment.

  Miss Bates fluttered an apology and turned the conversation to the sewing Jane was engaged upon.

  Jane happily answered all her Aunt Hetty’s questions on her plans and Dorothy, feeling better this day, joined in happily and the ladies planned sewing endeavours to take up their day while the men sawed, hammered and converted.

  They were thus engaged, Miss Bates having started Dorothy on the long seam of the centre back of her gown, having completed the two side seams, and Jane gathering ruffles for her own gown, when Fowler came in.

  “It’s that fellow Sir Richard again,” he said, “and I’ve left him downstairs in the salon next the reception room; couldn’t think what else to do with him, Madam, with the work in the book room and in here.”

  “Dear me, how very precipitate of him!” said Jane. “You had better show him up here to the parlour; or no, perhaps that will not answer; unless, Dorothy my dear, you do mind repairing to the nursery to play with Frances for a while? Annie shall bring her down in a quarter of an hour. You may be in danger if he sees you. Aunt Hetty, I beg you say nothing of Mr Armitage to this man; he may be an enemy; I pray you might talk of dear Highbury to him and how much we miss it. Caleb shall go through to the other room and direct from there; the men, setting up a Bramah closet shall continue working.”

  “Oh Jane!” gasped Miss Bates “I know I talk too much; it is a fault of mine because I so much like company; can you trust me not to say anything untoward?”

  “Dear Aunt Hetty, you should think only that you do not want to discuss this nasty business; think about Highbury and its excellent people. I will not let him question you” said Jane.

  Dorothy, at the word that this was an enemy took herself off without further bidding; she had no desire to be burned again! The burn on her face was nicely crusted over but she feared she might bear a scar all her life and the thought of the men who had been prepared to go to such lengths filled her with horror.

  Caleb nodded at Jane’s dispositions and quickly explained to the three soldiers what Mrs Churchill was suggesting was their supposed purpose.

  “Ain’t a half bad idea at that,” said Jackie, thoughtfully, “and explainin’ wot you was doin’ in there too if you gets found listenin’ any time”

  “And the plumbing might be installed at a future date; never mind that for now!” said Caleb.

  Sir Richard bowed over Jane’s hand and permitted himself to be introduced to her Aunt Hetty.

  “You are having work done to the house?” he asked, wincing at the banging.

  “Indeed yes!” said Jane with a look of fatuous enthusiasm “My husband had wanted a Bramah closet for a long time; and as it was all fixed up that they should come I could hardly say them nay; and indeed such a modern feature is an advantage, do you not think?”

  “We live in such exciting times!” added Aunt Hetty “With such wonderful inventions; fabric woven into such pleasing patterns or printed with complexities no loom could make and wonders like the Bramah closet; why in no time at all the clever little machine Mr Trevithick built might even be made big enough and fast enough to carry people as fast as a post chaise, and never tiring the way horses do! Mr George Knightley – he resides in Highbury where I generally live, you know – considers that it may be ultimately possible for steam powered carriages to reach an average speed of as much as fifteen miles per hour! And just imagine the luxury to travel so fast and cut the time of travel by so much!”

  “Perhaps Sir Richard is a noted whip who already knows the thrill of travelling so fast, at least over short distances” said Jane. “Do you drive, Sir Richard?”

  “I do; and I like to ride” said Sir Richard. “Would having a phaeton and pair help to make up your mind, Mrs Churchill?”

  Jane copied the irritating titter of false laughter that Augusta Elton was wont to utter.

  “Fie Sir Richard!” she said “I have told you I will not even think of this matter until I am out of black!”

  “What matter is this, my dear?” asked Aunt Hetty.

  “Why dear aunt, Sir Richard has a mistaken idea that his friendship to Frank means that he should make me an offer; most ineligible until I am out of mourning.”

  “Oh indeed!” cried Aunt Hetty. “It cannot be thought about! Sir Richard, you are at fault!”

  Sir Richard smiled his mirthless smile.

  “It has been known for a widow to put off her weeds early for the sake of a father to her children” he said.

  “Oh quite impossible,” said Jane, “and moreover there is the matter of the entail on Frank’s Uncle’s property; if I remarry before my child is born and it should be a boy, I shall be disinheriting him; you must recognise that, Sir Richard, that family matters must stand above everything. I did mention this yesterday when first you mooted this foolishness.”

  There was a tic in his cheek.

  “Ah, quite, yes, I see that” he said. “But what of your own fortune, Mrs Churchill? Might not the entail be broken if your own fortune was to be added to the estate?”

  “Oh but my fortune is all you see in front of me” said Jane deciding to equivocate over owning the house. “My face is my fortune, sir she said, as the song will have it. Everything else was Frank’s. The house is mine as long as I care to stay in it; and if I dislike my grandchildren, why I might have myself embalmed after the Egyptian fashion and insist on staying on display in the reception room to irritate them” and she smiled brightly enjoying the effect of letting foolish whimsy rule her tongue in trivial inconsequentialities of so absurd a nature.

  “JANE dear!” protested Miss Bates.

  “It seems a trifle macabre” said Sir Richard looking startled.

  “It is the Egyptian touches that some architect has put to the pillars and sconces in the reception room has put the idea into your head” said Miss Bates. “WHAT would Mr and Mrs Weston say?”

  “I do not know, Aunt Hetty,” said Jane demurely, “but I should think that they would probably say nothing as I might expect them to predecease me unless I die young. But there is no reason to suppose that like Cleopatra I should fall victim to any poisonous asp; wherein are such to be found here?”

  “There are adders on the downs near Highbury” said Miss Bates seriously.

  The conversation was interrupted by Annie tripping in with Frances in her arms.

  “Precious darling!” cried Jane taking Frances and almost thrusting her at Sir Richard – taking care that she had tight hold of the child – “Isn’t she just adorable?”

  Sir Richard actually recoiled.

  “I, er, I do not know much about small children,” he said, “I had been expecting to see you alone.”

  “Oh now that would have been ineligible” said Jane. “I saw you alone in the book room yesterday because I assumed it was business that brought you; but in light of your rather improper proposal I would not see you again without my duenna. And if you were to consider any serious courtship in due and proper course I should fail in my duty as a mother not to be absolutely certain that I present to my daughter any men who would wish to be her father. Though I must say that I am not sure that I am wishful to consider one to whom I had, for the time being, given his congé; for I will not be out of black for another five and a half months. And I have to say that I believe I must give Fowler orders not to permit you entry until August.”

  “But my dear Mrs Churchill!” he looked angry but schooled his features as Frances’ lower lip came out and she started to cry, turning from him, “my dear Mrs Churchill; a moment’s reflection will show you that a woman cannot undertake to deal with business matters; and I am ready to stand as your helpmate in that respect without pressing my suit; to deal with any paperwork that should arise!”

  “Oh dear Jane is QUITE equal to dealing with paperwork!�
�� said Miss Bates.

  “Poor sweetheart! Do not cry!” crooned Jane to Frances then smiled brightly at Sir Richard. “And such things as require a gentleman’s touch can be far better dealt with by Frank’s father” she added. “Oh Frances, didn’t you like him then, precious?”

  “His father? I understood that it was his uncle who held the purse strings and he many miles away in Yorkshire!” said Sir Richard scowling at the infant who was taking Jane’s attention.

  “Oh his uncle is usually to be found on the estate in Yorkshire,” said Jane, “but Frank was adopted by his Uncle and Aunt because his father was a widower; his father lives just two hours from town you know and might come up to conclude any business I require and return the same day. SO fortunate is it not? You will not need to trouble yourself in the least!” and she smiled brightly again.

  “For so lovely a woman I should not think it any trouble at all; besides being closer at hand” said Sir Richard.

  “Oh to be sure; but it would not be proper of me to place my family business in the hands of one who is to me at least a stranger,” said Jane, “for my Father-in-law would be most put out. And if I have any immediate trouble, why I might doubtless rely on Mr John Knightley who lives in London – he is a barrister at law – who was long a neighbour of mine and known to my Father-in-law as a most reliable man. I would not worry over putting yourself out on Frank’s behalf; for it will be news to me if he ever put himself out on behalf of anyone but himself. Now, Fowler will see you out; and I shall be ready to receive your card in August, Sir Richard” and she rang the bell.

  Fowler was hovering; he had taken Sir Richard in dislike being, as he told Mrs Ketch, too free with his vails and expression too veiled to be free, which witticism pleased him so well he stored it up to repeat to Mr Armitage who was, as Fowler also said to Mrs Ketch, more the gent in his manner than this supposed knight may be.

  Chapter 27

  “Of course, Jane-girl, now you’ve told him to shab off it might have queered the pitch,” said Caleb, “if he really is any good at playing the waiting game he will wait until August and we lose the Dutchman and we lose him.”

  “He doesn’t play the waiting game that well” said Jane. “He won’t wait; I fancy he will report to the Dutchman and we shall find ourselves either invaded by ruffians or a housebreaker infiltrated into the house; who will not, of course, find any such thing as the Avon necklace so I do not actually fear the same; since the orders must needs be specific.”

  “You reason so very well,” admired Caleb, “I thought I was pretty long headed; but you have me beat!”

  Jane laughed.

  “Oh perhaps I can help you by being moderately good at understanding people too; together we cover most things” she said. “I was wondering…. Concerning a future that we were not going to discuss….”

  “Your rules, Jane-girl” said Caleb.

  “Yes, my rules; and bad of me to break them” said Jane. “But I was wondering, hypothetically, whether a wife of an Officer of the Law might be permitted to help him in other cases…..”

  “Well in such an hypothetical case of course no rules of conduct of speech have been broken” said Caleb with a perfectly straight face. “Now the rules for an Officer of Bow Street do not permit an Officer of the Law to discuss his cases with anyone else; but,” he held up a finger and grinned as her face fell, “a wife is held to be one body with her husband in law; and indivisible; so if an Officer of the Law spoke to his wife of his cases and obtained her advice, why then he will not have violated the rules for he is merely cogitating in another part of his indivisible self.”

  Jane laughed.

  “Mr Armitage, you are a philosopher; a Sophist!” she declared.

  “It seems to work” agreed Caleb cheerily.

  Simmy had been busy throughout the day too and returned in triumph to tell Caleb and Jane that he had set up a whole network of informers watching every move that Sir Richard and Poul de Vries made.

  “And vis Sir, ‘e ain’t of the sort wot get vouchers to Almacks,” giggled Simmy as though this were a tremendous joke, “’cos apparently ‘e go out on Wed’s’d’y an’ also on’Sund’y, though vat ain’t an Almack’s day, to a low dive aht ‘Ampstead way, place called ‘The Spaniard’s Inn’!”

  “Hampstead? Why is that name familiar?” wondered Jane, “ah, was it not the place of residence of William Murray, Lord Mansfield the judge who famously ruled that slavery was against English law? It was an early step towards abolition and I read a ‘life’ of his in a magazine after I felt so oppressed by that wretched Elton woman and her boasting about her brother-in-law whose family made their wealth on the backs of slavery.”

  “Indeed Mrs Churchill, I have heard of Judge Murray too, though you are more knowledgeable than I; but it may be that you recall a more recent reference, for there was an article in the Tattler that the poet Mr Keats is to remove their for the good of his health since the city air makes him unwell” said Caleb. “You read out his poem ‘On first looking into Chapman’s Homer’ to Miss Bates when it was printed in the ladies’ magazine you take; I was much struck at the time that by his suggestion one might read these old Greek tales and feel like a gallant explorer and adventurer.”

  “Indeed perhaps the air outside the city may improve his poetry also; for I cannot admire his writing so well as that of Lord Byron, for all that one might deplore that man’s lifestyle and scandalous behaviour” said Jane. “I do not believe it was in connection with either Mr Keats or Lord Mansfield however that I connected the town of Hampstead; how vexatious! Perhaps it was mentioned in stray conversation by someone recently!”

  Simmy sniffed. Discussion of queer-cuffins, as his idiom designated judges, or poets, whom he apostrophised as bennish lolpoop chaunter-culls, bored him.

  “Well reckon if Sir Richard want some lolpoop to write rhymes for ‘im, ‘e don’t need ter go aht ter ‘Ampstead” he said firmly. “The Spaniard’s Inn is a place where cocking and the like take place, see?”

  Caleb laughed.

  “Oh I don’t have any suspicion that Sir Richard has any literary bent, nor any desire to oppose slavery, Simmy; but there is a former resident of Hampstead as may tickle your imagination; Dick Turpin was said to have drunk in your very Spaniard’s Inn in his heyday.”

  “CUH!” breathed Simmy, awed. He went on, “That feller Deevrees or whatever ‘e’s called, ‘e don’t go out much; and ‘e’s a skinflint too so nobody ‘as took much notice of ‘im. Seemingly ‘e does go to clients ‘ouses though, like some milliner; so we’ll find out ‘oo ‘e visits in a brace o’ shakes! Can I ‘ave one o’ vem little veal pies wot Mrs Ketch make? Cuh vey aren’t ‘arf tasty!”

  “You most certainly may if there are any over” said Jane. “Mr Armitage will make it all right with Mrs Ketch. And Mr Armitage, if it means we are to be one short at the table tomorrow why then, Mrs Ketch shall slice them and serve a platter with slices and a salad arrangement in the middle. It will look quite pretty and will go round quite well enough.”

  “Yes ma’am” said Caleb. At least he would be able to flatter Mrs Ketch into accepting such an idea; and the good woman had fortunately taken Simmy more as a challenge than a nuisance.

  Jane spent the rest of the evening playing dance music and counting out the measures to teach Dorothy to dance; and for that matter Caleb, who learned fast enough listening to her explanations. By pushing the furniture back they might manage Sir Roger de Coverley and some of the less complex country steps.

  “It is hard to show you how to go on without three couples,” said Jane, “so many dances require the triples to be made into the patterns of the set; and it helps to create the serpentine movements that are so necessary for a pretty effect. Still, if you will learn the steps it will stand you in good stead; for then you may just watch the leading couple at any dance and follow what they do.”

  “Will yer learn me to waltz?” asked Dorothy eagerly.

  “I will teach you
how to dance the country measures that are danced as waltz-time dances,” said Jane, “but to dance the actual waltz is extremely fast you know; it may be danced at Almack’s as they say, with the express permission of the patronesses, but High Society is a trifle ramshackle in its morals you know. Why even Lord Byron is said to have disapproved of the waltz and nobody can call his morals anything but a trifle lax whatever you may believe of some of the wilder gossip about him.”

  “What is the wilder gossip abaht ‘im?” asked Dorothy, interested.

  “You are too young to know,” said Jane primly, “and despite all your unfortunate experiences, too much an innocent. It would shock you.”

  She had no intention of disclosing that it had been hinted that Lord Byron had fathered a child on his own sister; that was a deeply shocking idea that Dorothy might have difficulty coping with. And as for some of the suggestions that he liked men in a certain fashion as well as women, why she preferred not to even contemplate that herself! And she certainly had no intention of repeating any of these shocking whispers in front of Aunt Hetty who would be much upset! Ella associated with too many high class dressers when out shopping. And she, Jane, should be firmer with her dresser over what gossip she repeated on her return to the house, for what she had heard was often quite scandalous. Ella had too much of a taste for the salacious.

  And at that, such a taste in one’s servants might yet be an advantage to the wife of an Officer at Bow Street. Jane coloured slightly at the turn of her thoughts and gave her attention to what Miss Bates had to say.

  “Dear me, he IS a rather unsatisfactory character, to be sure!” said Miss Bates of Byron, “but he writes SUCH evocative poetry; dear Jane has read out loud to me from some of his works and I enjoyed it excessively until I heard that he was a womaniser!”