The Crimson Cavaliers

by Mary Andrea Clarke

  Betsy opened the door to Georgiana and gave a bright smile of greeting. Despite their poverty, the door was always open to acquaintances, and Georgiana never felt less than welcome. She considered the possible consequences if Joe Hill had killed Sir Robert. She dreaded to think what would become of his children if their only surviving parent went to the gallows.

  “Good morning, Betsy,” said Georgiana. “I heard your father was not at work yesterday, and was afraid he might be unwell.”

  “Thank you, miss.” Betsy always seemed older than her ten years. Since her mother’s death, there was a careworn look about the child which always made Georgiana wish she could do more for the family.

  “Would you like something to drink, miss?”

  “No, thank you, Betsy. I don’t wish to be any trouble; I don’t intend to stay long. Is your father at home?”

  The girl nodded. “Shall I fetch him?”

  “If he feels able to receive a visitor.”

  Joe Hill appeared in hastily dressed state within a very few minutes. Despite the smile with which he welcomed his visitor, he seemed flustered. Georgiana rose from the table where she had been seated, looking searchingly at him. He was pale, certainly, but she could discern no other signs of illness. Georgiana knew this was not in itself conclusive, but it struck her as odd. Joe could not afford to lose one day’s pay; to lose two was unthinkable.

  “It’s most kind of you to call, Miss Grey, most kind.”

  “How are you, Mr Hill? Is there anything you need?”

  “No, thank you, miss. I’m well enough. It’s just the old trouble plaguing me again. Confounded nuisance, it is, begging your pardon, miss.”

  Georgiana knew the ‘old trouble’ was an injury to his leg from some years previously. While resolutely pushing aside the suspicion that it surfaced at moments of convenience, she could not help but recall there had been no sign of a limp as he had walked away from the Lucky Bell.

  “Betsy told me your maid had called with some bread and fruit,” Hill said. “It was very good of her. It’s wonderful how everyone in your house thinks of us, especially since Dora died.”

  “Not at all,” said Georgiana. “We’re only too glad to help.”

  Hill did not seem to know how he should continue the conversation and Georgiana found herself unable to postpone broaching the subject she would have liked to avoid. Her glance went involuntarily towards Betsy.

  “Betsy, why don’t you run outside and play?” Hill said to his daughter, as though aware Georgiana did not wish to speak in front of her.

  The child obeyed, giving Georgiana a cheerful smile as she passed. Hill returned his attention to his visitor, gesturing towards her recently vacated chair.

  “Won’t you sit down, Miss Grey?” he asked.

  “Thank you, Mr Hill. I hope you can help me.” As Georgiana seated herself, she gave some thought to her next words. “My brother has just been appointed to the magistrates’ bench.”

  Hill appeared puzzled, as though not certain why Georgiana was telling him this. “Well, I hope you’ll give him my best, miss.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you. He is looking into the matter of Sir Robert Foster’s death and I was a little concerned, because I gather you were away from home on that evening.”

  Hill stiffened. Georgiana could sense his withdrawal.

  “That’s true,” he said.

  “Would you mind telling me where you went?”

  “That I would, Miss Grey. You’ve no right to ask me such a question.”

  “No, of course, I understand that,” said Georgiana. “But things would be better for you if you could prove where you were when Sir Robert died.”

  Hill eyed Georgiana with growing suspicion. “Are you accusing me of something, miss?”

  “No, indeed,” said Georgiana.

  “Then I don’t see why you should be wishing to know,” Hill replied. “With respect, Miss Grey, it’s not you who’s the magistrate.”

  His tone was polite but unmistakably final, warning against any further attempt to continue this questioning. Georgiana was not easily daunted.

  “My intention is not to pry, Mr Hill. However–”

  “I think perhaps you should go, miss.”

  “Now, Mr Hill, do but listen–”

  “I’ll not be accused of murder in my own house, not even by you, Miss Grey.” Hill stood up as he spoke.

  “I’m not accusing you of anything,” Georgiana protested. “However, if you can’t account for your whereabouts, it is likely someone will make accusations.”

  “Why should anyone accuse me? I thought it was that highwayman who did it.”

  Georgiana thought carefully about how to phrase her reply. “The Crimson Cavalier is certainly a strong suspect, but there are others who could have had reason for wanting Sir Robert dead.”

  “Are you saying I was one of them?” Hill demanded.

  “You must admit, Mr Hill, you had no reason to be fond of him.” Georgiana paused. “I know Sir Robert was a neglectful landlord…”

  “Neglectful?” cut in Hill in a heated tone. “He was beyond neglectful, miss, he was downright nasty.” Hill stopped and took a breath before continuing. “You can see the walls are damp. Well, then the door started getting cracked, with bits breaking off the bottom. Made the wind fair rush through. That’s when Dora started coughing.”

  Recalling the cough James had developed in prison, Georgiana could understand Hill’s animosity. She glanced towards the door.

  “Aye, it’s right enough now,” he said, noticing the direction of her eyes. “I knew Sir Robert wouldn’t do anything about getting it fixed, so I did it myself. Took time from work to do it.” Hill’s face grew grim with the memory. “Sir Robert wanted to put the rent up. Said if we wanted to live in luxury we’d have to pay more. We didn’t have the money, and he said we’d have to get out unless…” Hill stopped abruptly, his face flushed.

  “Unless?” prompted Georgiana.

  “I’d rather not discuss it, miss. It wouldn’t be seemly.”

  “What? Good gracious, Mr Hill, what on earth…?” Georgiana paused, enlightenment dawning. “Mr Hill, would I be correct in assuming Sir Robert made advances to your wife?”

  The look of mortification on Hill’s face gave Georgiana all the answer she needed.

  “Advances? Oh, aye, he made advances right enough. Treated her like a common tart, tried to bargain for her. Said if she’d oblige and be a bit friendly with him, he’d let us stay here, even hinted he’d let the rent go by.”

  “I see,” said Georgiana.

  “Was the same when she used to clean house for him. She told me he was always leering, always suggesting…”

  “I understand,” said Georgiana.

  “Used to come home in tears, she did. I wanted her to leave, but she was worried we wouldn’t be able to manage without the money, miserly though it was. In the end it got too much for her and she did leave. That’s when he put our rent up,” Hill concluded bitterly.

  “I see,” said Georgiana quietly.

  “Do you, Miss Grey?” he asked with a touch of sarcasm. Suddenly he sighed, looking defeated. “I beg your pardon, Miss Grey. I’ve no right to be getting angry with you. Only when I think of how she died…”

  It was easy to see why he blamed Sir Robert for his wife’s death. “In your situation, Mr Hill, I think anyone would be angry.”

  “Anger’s one thing, murder’s another,” said Hill with some hostility. “I didn’t kill him.”

  One thing still niggled at Georgiana. “Then why are you being secretive about where you were on the night Sir Robert died?”

  Hill looked steadily at her. “Begging your pardon, miss, but that’s a private matter.”

  Georgiana grew exasperated.

  “For heaven’s sake, do be sensible. I’m trying to help you.”

  Hill rose.

  “Thank you for calling, Miss Grey,” he said stiffly, his face pale. “I won’t take up
any more of your time.”

  Georgiana tried another approach.

  “Perhaps you will tell me instead what you were doing in the Lucky Bell.”

  Hill checked in the act of moving to open the door. He looked back at Georgiana, dumbstruck, then shook his head.

  “I’m surprised at a lady like you knowing about that place, miss.”

  “Never mind that,” said Georgiana.

  Hill continued to hesitate, his colour rising. His voice, when he finally spoke, was awkward and apologetic. “I – I went for a walk. Even with four children, a man gets lonely. I was – I was looking for company. That’s why I went to that tavern. I’d been a couple of times: one of the girls there was quite friendly.”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “I had a drink with her, but I got to thinking about Dora. It wasn’t just that I felt I was betraying her, it seemed I was no better than Sir Robert Foster, trying to bargain for that girl’s company the way he tried to bargain for Dora’s. I finished my drink and walked home. I’m not proud of myself, Miss Grey, that’s why I kept quiet. Anyway, I knew it would look bad, me being out on the night Sir Robert died. I don’t know anything about that, miss, I swear it.”

  Georgiana left the cottage in thoughtful frame of mind. Untethering her horse, she suddenly felt the weight of the task she had set herself. There seemed to be complications everywhere she looked. She was so absorbed she did not at first hear her name called from the road; she noticed Lakesby only as he rode up to her.

  “You were in quite a brown study, Miss Grey. I was just on my way to visit you,” he said pleasantly. As he dismounted, he studied her face. “Are you quite well?”

  “I beg your pardon. Yes, I am in excellent health.”

  Georgiana frowned. Lakesby was watching her closely.

  “Should I assume your inquiries are not progressing as you might wish?” he inquired.

  Georgiana glanced towards him. “Inquiries? Mr Lakesby, are you speaking of Sir Robert’s death?”

  Lakesby smiled as he aided her to mount then returned to his own horse. He glanced towards the Hill cottage as they rode away. “Is Mr Hill one of your suspects?”

  “My suspects? What a curious turn of phrase,” said Georgiana. She continued almost absently, “Although he was not at home on the night Sir Robert died.”

  “Neither were many people. I was not myself.”

  “No,” said Georgiana, eyeing him cautiously.

  Lakesby laughed. “I see I am also a suspect, Miss Grey. Pray, don’t concern yourself that I might be offended by the notion.”

  Georgiana had no such concern, but refrained from volunteering this information.

  “Do you think Hill might have had something to do with it?”

  Georgiana hesitated a moment before speaking.

  “He blames Sir Robert for the death of his wife. Sir Robert had increased the rent. The Hills couldn’t afford it, of course, and Sir Robert threatened to evict them.” She paused. “Unless Mrs Hill grew more friendly and… obliging.”

  “I see.”

  “With his wife’s death as well, I think Mr Hill holds Sir Robert responsible for all his misfortunes.”

  “It’s easy to understand why.” Lakesby looked closely at her.

  “He denies being near the scene of the murder.”

  “As I said, Miss Grey, any number of people might have been away from home when Sir Robert was killed. I suppose it’s possible to check the truth of his story?”

  “I expect so,” said Georgiana.

  They fell silent for a moment or two longer before Georgiana decided it was time for a change of subject.

  “You were at Brooks’s on the night of Sir Robert’s death, were you not, Mr Lakesby?”

  “Indeed, I was. I even spoke to one or two people, should I be in need of witnesses.”

  “Do you expect to need them?”

  “One never knows.”

  They rode on in silence for a moment or two, Georgiana thoughtful, the horses walking alongside companionably. Lakesby did not press her to conversation.

  “Did you learn anything at the funeral?”

  “Nothing,” Lakesby responded. “Brandon Foster was his usual delightfully morose self and Lord Bartholomew scurried away as soon as he’d done his duty. Your brother gave me a civil bow. The rest were servants, who may not have been very fond of Sir Robert, but I hardly imagine they had reason to kill him.”

  Since Lakesby had mentioned Edward, she decided it would be a good moment to ask about their acquaintance.

  “Mr Lakesby, what did you mean when you said you and my brother were better acquainted than you had led me to believe?”

  Lakesby gave a wry smile. It was a moment before he spoke. “I think I mentioned we met at Oxford.”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “I daresay this will surprise you, but we became good friends,” he continued. “Not what you expected, I’m aware. I don’t need to tell you Edward was always serious, though not quite so serious as he is now. I wouldn’t say he was ripe for kicking up larks, but he sought diversion as much as anyone. He even pulled me out of the occasional scrape.”

  “Really?” This was a side of her brother with which Georgiana was unfamiliar.

  “I can’t say he liked it, but it didn’t stop him helping. He would certainly lecture me about it afterwards.”

  “Now that sounds like Edward.”

  Lakesby smiled. “There was one occasion which was different from the others. I expect he would tell you I carried things too far.”

  “What happened?” said Georgiana.

  Lakesby gave a twisted smile.

  “It was absurd, the sort of thing that seems harmless, but when blown out of proportion…” He grimaced, shaking his head at the memory. “Edward and I were at the same college. A cousin of mine asked me to look after his pet dog, one of those tiny creatures that one could almost hide in a drawer. Alas, the noise of the thing…” Lakesby’s eyes rolled. “As it happened, one of the professors had a cat in his rooms. Edward was helping look after my cousin’s pet, we took turns with the thing so one of us did not have it all the time. We thought this might mean less chance of being found out. Unfortunately, despite our precautions, the dog escaped from his rooms, through a window, I think. Of course, it found the cat which created no end of trouble. The poor creature was chased through the college, and they finished in the Master’s Lodgings, knocking over a valuable vase. Edward, in a bout of honour, confessed to our part in the affair. We were both sent down for the remainder of the term.”

  “I see,” said Georgiana, eyes ahead, a smile playing about her lips. “I do remember Edward once arriving home a few days early; he said there had been some confusion over dates.”

  “I believe he found some obliging friends to lodge with in the meantime.”

  Georgiana glanced towards Lakesby. “You and Edward quarrelled?”

  Lakesby nodded. “Being sent down was a stigma to Edward. He blamed me and hence never forgave me.”

  “How absurd,” said Georgiana. “Granted the outcome was unfortunate, but to end a friendship over it seems quite an over-reaction.”

  Lakesby shrugged. “I daresay he imagines I’ve moved on to worse follies. In any case, this is hardly relevant. There are certainly enough people with motives for murder. Your footman, for instance.”

  “James?” said Georgiana in some surprise. “Don’t be absurd, Mr Lakesby. Of course James didn’t do it. What would he have to gain, pray?”

  “Revenge,” responded Lakesby promptly. “I seem to recall hearing he’d suffered Sir Robert’s wrath from the bench.”

  “How could you know that?” she demanded.

  “My valet is very well informed.”

  “I see, servants’ gossip,” remarked Georgiana.

  “Poaching, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Georgiana eyeing him warily.

  “He must have lost, what, a good year of his life in prison? That kind of experie
nce can make a man bitter.”

  “James is not the vengeful sort.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. It is not often one hears of someone turning the other cheek. Most refreshing.”

  His mocking tone irritated Georgiana. “If you have nothing more constructive to say, Mr Lakesby–”

  “I beg your pardon,” said Lakesby in more serious vein. “I daresay you are right and your footman is not responsible.”

  “Thank you,” she responded coolly.

  “I must say,” Lakesby remarked, turning the subject, “I was most impressed by your efforts to trying to strike up a friendship with Lady Wickerston. It was unfortunate your brother looked rather bilious.”

  Georgiana wrestled with her conscience for a moment or two. The grin which appeared on her face indicated her conscience as the loser.

  “Did Lady Wickerston explain why she was attending a party if she was supposed to be in mourning for her uncle?” inquired Lakesby.

  “My sister-in-law had told her it was to be a small affair, so she considered that would be acceptable.”

  “I see,” said Lakesby.

  “Besides,” Georgiana continued, “she was apparently not close to him.”

  “I suppose her sombre attire was some concession.”

  “Yes,” said Georgiana absently.

  They had by this time reached Georgiana’s house. After the barest hesitation, she invited Lakesby in for some refreshment. He declined.

  “However, I beg you will give me the pleasure of coming for a drive with me tomorrow.”

  Georgiana hesitated.

  “Come, Miss Grey,” Lakesby continued in a persuasive tone, “I’m sure you would find it enjoyable.”

  “Very well. Thank you, Mr Lakesby.”

  Lakesby escorted Georgiana up the steps to her front door and they took leave as Horton opened it. Entering the hall, she was about to draw off her gloves when the eye-catching sight of a jewel-encrusted cane resting on the hall table sank Georgiana’s heart. There could be no mistaking Lord Bartholomew Parker’s flamboyant taste.