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

by Sarah Waldock

  “Yes Mr Armitage; sorry Mr Armitage” said Dorothy, subdued.

  She was rather in awe of Caleb; but he was kind too, and most men would have slapped her. Dorothy got about the task of picking up the scattered snowdrops and greenery, mostly rosemary, lavender and bay from the kitchen garden, there not being much in the way of plant material at this time of year. Dorothy was not an expert flower arranger though she liked to watch Mrs Jane at the daily task of keeping pleasant bowls of what Dorothy’s uneducated idiom called ‘erbs in the parlour and dining room, with such flowers added as might be in bloom. Jane had shown Dorothy the green shoots that would be crocuses and bluebells over the next couple of months and had suggested an outing to pick hazel catkins on Hampstead Heath. Meanwhile Dorothy enjoyed the scent of the lavender and rosemary as she poked the plant material back into the pretty bowl Jane had chosen to arrange them in, and stood it near Miss Bates so the scent might help revive her. She ran for a carafe of water and a glass too, to water flowers and give Miss Bates a drink at the same time; for Dorothy was a thoughtful enough girl even if not particularly clever. And if Mr Armitage said he would get Mrs Jane back, he would get Mrs Jane back! And so she assured Miss Bates!

  Caleb knew that Dorothy would look after Miss Bates well enough once brought out of hysteria; and ran back down. The three soldiers were waiting for him, much upset.

  “I’m not sure we might of stopped it ‘appenin’ nowise,” said Jackie, “but one of us might of leaped that rattlin’-cove afore ‘e fired on Mr Fowler, or one of us might of stopped the nags, or at least leaped on the back and hung onto the boot!”

  “Oh I doubt you might have stopped it,” said Caleb, “it was over too fast; I sent Simmy to get word from beggars which way they went. He ought to be back before long, so get your barking-irons primed and ready and check the sharp on your cutlasses and we’ll be off, I hope, presently.”

  “We have a sharp on our tooth picks; you don’t need to worry about that” said Jackie. “Good naval ones they be; got them cheap. Purser on the make; less ways to feather their nests now the war’s over, see.”

  Caleb saw; he had heard much about the depredations of crooked pursers at sea, and they made the shenanigans of the Royal Waggon Train look quite honest by comparison.

  He was however quite relieved when the Hackney Carriage returned bearing Simmy and a disreputable looking beggar with one leg and scabs and sores all over his body. Caleb eyed the newcomer with mixed feelings.

  “If you think I’m introducing you into the house where I’m staying looking like that you maundering fermerdly-cove you can think again, Billy Blue!” he said “Simmy, you take him down the area steps and clean orf all them sores and scabs so he look half respectable and you can let down that leg o’yourn too” he added.

  “There’s rhino in this right?” said Billy Blue.

  “Mr Armitage will give you a quid; di’n’t I say?” said Simmy shrilly.

  Caleb raised an eyebrow.

  “He has information worth that much?” he queried.

  “’E’s seen that carriage afore and where it go” said Simmy in great excitement.

  “All right; when he’s respectable” said Caleb.

  Billy spat, and undid a strap allowing the leg that had been held up behind him to be released, and shook it to restore the feeling.

  “Fer gelt I’ll take orf all me artistic finery” he said.

  “Bring him to the book room when he’s fit to be seen” said Caleb hoping that the information was good; and knowing that a guinea was a small amount to pay for Jane’s safety.

  Miss Bates had shown signs of wanting to hear what Simmy’s acquisition might have to say but Caleb had dissuaded her from leaving the parlour. Billy Blue was a beggar of more colourful language than Miss Bates’ delicate nerves would be able to stand, though Caleb grinned at the thought that Jane would have found him more fascinating than disgusting. Jane was a remarkable woman! And he must make shift to rescue her as soon as possible; at least that blasted Hackney coachman was ready to be held as long as need be. Of course he was used to waiting on gentry-morts doing all their shopping; it was probably all of a piece to him.

  Caleb tried not to sigh with irritation as he waited; and hid his impatience as he heard Simmy on the stairs with Billy Blue.

  “I went down and found beggars to say what route were took, see,” said Simmy, “and seeminly ‘e was ‘eading Norf so I finks, Gawd, is ‘e takin’ Mrs Churchill ter Gretna? And when we was on the Great Norf Road startin’ up ‘Averstock ‘Ill well I fort that were it! Ven I seen Billy yere, in Camden so I says to the jarvis to stop, see?”

  “Camden?” queried Caleb.

  Billy started to hawk, caught Caleb’s furious eye and swallowed, choking horribly.

  “Big bully” said Billy.

  “Gawd, Bill, ‘E ain’t nothin’ on Mrs Jane, she’d make yer clear it up and scrub yer mouf aht wiv soap!” declared Simmy.

  “And yer wants ‘er back?” Billy was incredulous. Caleb took a single panther like pace and grasped him by the throat with one big hand.

  “One word contrary to Mrs Jane and you might not live to enjoy your guinea; and I’m beginning to wonder if Simmy ain’t made a mistake and you don’t know nothin’! Why Camden?”

  “Stand to reason, don’t it?” Billy said. “They just got the Regent’s canal as far as Camden; and there’s new ‘ouses goin up. Gawdstrewth, bein’ the first on the grahnd fer the pickin’s is worf a mort o’ rhino.”

  “That follows,” said Caleb, “touching the navvies too I suppose with sporting tips, spurious or otherwise, while they extend it towards Limehouse?”

  “Well, mebbe” said Billy looking shifty. “Few good fibbing-matches take place out Primrose ‘Ill way. Vere’s one termorra night, cove called Charlie the Miller against…..”

  “I am not interested in bare knuckle fights” said Caleb waspishly. “Did you see the carriage with the blue muffler?”

  “O’course I did!” said Billy “Struck me as right queer t’see Sir Richard Marjoram’s berlin bedecked like a dell in a milliner’s shop; so I was able to tell Simmy yere what I knows; and I’d like ter see yer gelt, no offence, Mr Armitage, afore I whiddle the scrap.”

  Caleb laid a guinea on the table.

  “That’s for identifying the berlin” he said. “There’ll be a brother to it if you have any more.”

  Billy started talking very rapidly.

  Chapter 30

  The drive was not long for Jane; that they had left the metropolis she was able to gauge by the cessation of the noise of frequent traffic and the shouts of itinerant peddlers and traders; they appeared to travel up hill for some way then the carriage turned sharply left and came to a halt.

  “We have arrived,” said Sir Richard, “and if we should encounter anyone and you kick up any fuss I shall smile and inform them that you are my unfortunate cousin released from Bedlam to be under the care of a private doctor. Screams of abduction would be disbelieved I assure you!”

  “Oh I don’t know,” said Jane, “you look sufficiently like a loose fish to me that I shouldn’t mind putting it to the test. Shall we try it? After all the worst that can happen is that people think I am mad and pity me; at best someone might run you through which I should find vastly entertaining.”

  Sir Richard stared like a stuffed cod; then slapped her resoundingly across the face. Jane was knocked sideways on the seat but managed to give him a brittle smile.

  “Why thank you Sir Richard,” she said, “the bruise and the cut on my cheek from your ring immediately tells disinterested passers by that you are violent and will make them more inclined to believe me over you!”

  He gaped.

  The door was opened by his footman.

  “Problem, Sir Richard?” he asked.

  Sir Richard glared.

  “Make sure the coast is clear; this little virago believes she can call my bluff; and I would rather not try her and see” he said.

 
“Yessir,” said the coachman, “here’s a muffler on the door; you want that out of sight.”

  Sir Richard rounded on Jane who ignored him and cried out in delight.

  “Oh my muffler! Why I made sure I had lost it when this horrid creature grabbed me; it was knit for me by a maidservant you know, all with her own hands!”

  “Cease your prattling woman!” cried Sir Richard, grabbing her by the arm again to manhandle her down the steps. Jane fumbled with her skirt, glad that fashion decreed more width in skirts this season; and took a flying leap for the ground. She stumbled slightly but her arm was free for Sir Richard lost his balance and fell ignominiously to the ground. She found herself in the yard of a coaching inn, which was open and not in an enclosed courtyard; there was some kind of structure on the other side of the road down which they had presumably come, and beyond the hard gravely sand that made up the yard was some kind of heathland, with short rabbit-cropped earth and gorse bushes. Taking all this in at a glance, Jane lost no time in setting off towards open country at a run.

  Her freedom did not last long; with a yell the coachman flung himself upon her and pinioned her arms.

  She bit his wrist.

  Then Sir Richard was there with a wicked looking knife.

  “If you don’t want me to cut your face off you’ll behave” he said.

  Jane considered her options. There was no guarantee he might not do so anyway to keep her at home when he married her by force as such was his intent; and that if she got hurt she might at least remain free. But Caleb would come; the main thing she must try to concentrate on were delaying tactics so she might not have to hold out against torture too long.

  “How can I be certain you will not cut my face off in any case to make me a compliant wife?” she countered, “it might be worth my while to take my chances” and she bit the coachman again. He howled satisfactorily.

  “By Jove it is an idea” said Sir Richard. Jane bit harder.

  “Please guvnor, guarantee the zantippy so she stop bitin’ me!” howled the coachman.

  Sir Richard touched the knife to Jane’s nose and she felt a sharp pain and hot wet blood.

  “I may not spoil your face in any case for I like the look of it,” he said, “but I will slit your nose if you do not stop biting right now.”

  Jane stopped biting.

  It had taken up some time at least.

  They dragged her to the coaching inn, an unprepossessing building that looked to be two hundred or more years old, three stories high and the plaster covering what was doubtless a timber frame painted white, though there was precious little white to it now, being quite uniformly grey and grimy. Plaster had fallen from the wall in places and Jane was reminded of the women who haunted Covent Garden when daylight came at the end of their working day, the white lead paint too many of them wore cracking after the exigencies of their nightly activities.

  She let them manhandle her in a back door and upstairs. There were some semi-clad females up here too who laughed and talked raucously. That should be no surprise; it was plainly a low dive. There had been some sort of sign at the front which looked to be a man in armour of some description; though it looked more like a lobster with a strange looking helmet.

  Jane received a jolt of revelation. A man in lobster armour and a morion helm. Well that told her exactly where she was!

  She was pushed into a chair; and the coachman left. She suspected that he would be standing outside the door. One of the other chairs was already occupied by Poul de Vries; Sir Richard took the other.

  “I really am still most confused still about why you have abducted me,” said Jane, “for my nerves were quite shattered in the coach when you made me cast up my accounts and I was unable to take in anything save that you are not dragging me to Gretna. And this is that Jeweller; the one who came to see me. Why is he here? Are you acting as a pawnbroker, Sir Richard? You said something about Dolly’s wretched necklace; did she pawn it to you? I really cannot be held accountable for my husband’s mistress cheating you and in my opinion five pounds was a stupidly high price to give for it even if you did feel sorry for her, and surely recourse to the law would be a better way to recoup….”

  Sir Richard hit her across the mouth.

  “Shut up!” he said.

  She had at least half expected it having copied her aunt’s way of rattling on inconsequentially; and Frank had once said that he longed to slap Miss Bates across her stupid mouth. It was something Jane would never forgive; true he had been half in his cups, and she had been suggesting leaving him and returning to Miss Bates because he was being unreasonable; but the outpouring of how hard it had been to make up to Miss Bates without losing his temper had been vitriolic. It had been the point at which she had told him that as he did not like garrulous women he need not expect her to speak or react more than was needful.

  Expecting it, she rode the blow a little; but it hurt.

  Well if he was as easy to manipulate as Frank she would be as passive as with Frank. She sat limp in the chair, trying to relax.

  “What did she say in the carriage? Have you questioned her without me that you made her vomit?” asked the Dutchman.

  “She cast up her accounts because of having a broken ankle” said Sir Richard.

  “She seems to walk quite adequately” said de Vries puzzled. Sir Richard gave him an impatient look.

  “She’s pregnant you stupid Dutchman” he said. “It is a euphemism…..And all I did was to tell her that we knew she was lying about that prime piece of goods pawning the necklace. She made that she did not understand.”

  “So? Vell she must understand or she vill not like the consequences” said de Vries. His cultivated accentless speech slipped, Jane noticed, quite as much as did Fowler’s under stress. “Mrs Churchill, you vill tell us all about the necklace that we vant to know or it vill not be pleasant; first ve can hurt you vith much more subtlety than poor Smudger managed with the trug; and ve can also arrange that you disappear into a brothel yourself and be most unhappy when you will be villing and ready to tell us all and to marry Sir Richard for his and your protection, no?”

  Jane stared.

  “Well?” demanded Sir Richard.

  Jane transferred her gaze to him, looking mildly puzzled.

  He struck her.

  “Are you going to talk?” he asked.

  “Oh I do not understand!” cried Jane, “first you say to shut up now you say to talk! What do you wish me to talk about?”

  “What do I wish……why you stupid woman I want you to answer questions as de Vries has asked you!” ground out Sir Richard “He has asked me something? I do not know Dutch though; I could not understand what he said at all, it was like a dog barking” said Jane “And moreover why would I answer questions of a nasty little mushroom like him? I do not have conversations with cits you know, Sir Richard, especially those who cannot even speak the king’s English!”

  De Vries looked angry; Sir Richard was quite purple.

  “Richard you have better ask the questions” said de Vries in a low voice“If the verdompt vrow cannot understand my accent; ach, it is true I am agitated enough that I do not have command of my voice!”

  “I agree” said Sir Richard, also in an undertone. “She is not faking; she did not once blench when you told her the consequences; I thought it odd.”

  Jane heard him well enough; the ears of a musician were quick to hear. Once again she was grateful that she had learned to mask her expression during that secret engagement.

  Sir Richard schooled himself to impassivity of manner and explained in detail the consequences of failing to talk to Jane who assumed an expression of worried horror.

  “So; what do you know of the necklace?” asked Sir Richard.

  “Oh I am so confused and scared!” cried Jane, “you are a cruel and ungentlemanly man; why should you care so much about that wretched necklace? I told de Vries that Dolly told me she had pawned it; what can anyone care for – good God! Are
you saying that Frank picked up the wrong one by accident when he bought it, that it was real? Why Sir Richard, was it then yours and you ended up with the paste necklace? Why then you have every right to be testy but surely you could have been honest with me about that, and not act in so hole-in-the corner way? If I thought for one moment that Dolly knew, I should have gently persuaded me to tell me where then it might be; but you are not going to think that I shall ask her now you have behaved so shabbily towards me; for I shall not be in the least co-operative over helping you to find the wretched thing and I hope it was sold to some Mill Owner’s wife for a fraction of its value!”

  “Does that onnozelaar wijf not have any kind of speech that is not like your dombo horse that can only gallop or stay still?” cried de Vries.

  “Apparently not” said Sir Richard. “Are you trying to put over me the tarradidle that you had no idea that the necklace was anything but fake? Any woman who has seen real diamonds knows what they look like!”

  “Oh yes! For I have real diamonds in the necklace that Frank’s uncle made me wear at our wedding, and I was never so disappointed in all my born days; for they were so dull and shabby and the rubies quite unprepossessing too, and Frank said that they should have been cleaned, though I do not know how to clean such things and there was not time to take them to a jeweller because they arrived so soon before the wedding. If I had seen Dolly’s necklace I should have known at once it was real because diamonds are such ugly dull stones and not in the least bit as exciting as the name of them seems to suggest, for is there not something evocative in the very word diamond?” said Jane. “At least coloured stones have something to them other than the dull grey look.”

  “Dull? Grey? That wench has never a diamond seen never!” cried de Vries “Much less the Avon necklace! That sly little piece Frank was keeping has held out on her also; you will have to get hold of that one, Richard and put her to the question!”

  “I am still tempted to run a needle or two up under her nails to see if she continues to tell the same tale” said Sir Richard.