The Jacobite Murders

by G. M. Best

  Lady Overbury smiled back reassuringly and, reaching out, gently placed both her hands around the poor girl’s face. ‘Miss Westbrook, no father in England could force me to marry against my wishes. What signifies your inheritance if it prevents you marrying the man you love?’

  It was as if courage seemed to flow from Lady Overbury’s fingertips. Sophia straightened her drooping shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. ‘You are right! I’d rather starve to death with Tom than live in luxury with John Burnett!’

  Hearing this brave response, Lady Overbury vowed then and there that she would do all she could to help her and immediately promised to convey to Tom Jones how much Sophia loved him.

  ‘Please give him the hope that we might one day be together,’ urged the young girl, blushing at her own temerity. ‘My greatest fear is that he will go to America and then I will never see him again.’ She fought to keep the panic from her voice at such a prospect, but she could not prevent her skin going hot and cold.

  ‘I am sure that will not happen,’ reassured Lady Overbury, seeking to console her.

  Sophia looked miserable. ‘You do not know my father. Once he has determined on a course of action, he will let nothing stand in his way.’

  ‘Then take some advice from an older and more experienced handler of men. See your father this very night and tell him that he must not proceed with his intention of seeing Mr Burnett. Say that you have heard that he has been injured and cannot receive visitors or invent whatever tale you think will best sway him on this matter. Once he speaks to him I think your father’s sense of honour would force him to proceed with your marriage, whatever you might subsequently say.’

  ‘You are right, Lady Overbury, and I will heed your most welcome advice.’

  ‘I am gratified that you find my opinion helpful and I wish you every success when you meet your father this evening.’

  Sophia lent over and gave the older woman a kiss. ‘I would gain further wisdom from you but my aunt will begin to suspect something if I do not soon join her.’

  ‘Then when shall we be able to meet again?’ responded Lady Overbury, whose heart was completely melted. ‘I would like to hear the outcome of tonight’s discussion and I am sure that Mr Jones will wish me to bring a message to you.’

  Sophia thought for a moment and then observed, ‘Lady Crowthorpe insists on me joining her every morning in the King’s Bath. Could we possibly meet there tomorrow at seven o’clock?’

  ‘I have not yet experienced the waters of Bath. You have given me an excellent reason for wishing to try them!’

  The two women exchanged kisses and Sophia Westbrook then dashed off in the direction her aunt had taken. ‘Well,’ said Lady Overbury to herself, ‘I may not have discovered anything more about Lord Kearsley but I think that I have news that will be most welcome to Mr Jones!’

  6

  A THIRD MURDER ATTEMPTED

  The departure of Lady Overbury for Prior Park meant that she missed the promised return visit of Dr Cleland that afternoon to re-dress Burnett’s head wound. It was therefore Tom Jones who showed him up to the bedroom where the injured man was still fast asleep. The doctor was none too gentle in roughly awakening him. ‘Sir, you have woken me from the sweetest sleep that I have ever had in my life,’ mumbled Burnett once he had gathered his senses.

  The doctor looked at him sternly. ‘Many a man has dozed his life away, sir. Sleep is not always good and your pulse is disordered. I think you may be developing a fever and I propose to prevent that by bleeding you.’

  Though his strength had not yet fully returned, Burnett shook his head emphatically. ‘Damn it, sir! I’ll lose no more blood. I already feel far better and I have no doubt that I will soon be fully recovered without any further treatment.’

  ‘I wish I could assure you that you will be well in a month or two, let alone a few days. In my experience people do not recover quickly from such contusions.’

  ‘Doubtless they do not if you bleed what little blood they have left. I tell you I will not be bled!’

  Dr Cleland looked at him coldly. ‘Yours is not the action of a responsible man.’ He turned to Tom Jones, who only just managed to hide his amusement. ‘Young man, I think you will have to persuade your friend here to heed my advice. If he is not blooded, I fear he will die.’

  Seeing how much better Burnett already looked, Jones thought this highly unlikely. ‘I hope, Doctor Cleland, that you would not have me hold him down while you bleed him against his will,’ he replied with a wry smile.

  Seeing that Jones was no ally, the doctor turned back to his patient. ‘I demand of you, sir, one last time – will you or will you not be blooded?’

  ‘And I answer you for the last time. I will not.’

  ‘Then I wash my hands of you and I desire you pay me for the trouble I have already had. Two journeys at five shillings each and a dressing at five shillings more, and half a crown for my advice.’

  ‘I fear that I have not got such a sum to hand, sir, but Tom here will ensure that you are paid in full.’

  Jones led the unhappy doctor back downstairs and gave him the money he had requested, although from past experience he doubted whether Burnett would repay him. While he was doing this the patient resolved to get up. Although his head still hurt, his injury had been more superficial than it had looked because wounds to the scalp often bleed profusely. He went upstairs to his room, unlocked his portmanteau, and took out fresh clothes to wear. Once he had donned these, Burnett went downstairs and asked Jones to arrange for Sarah Darr to bring him something to eat. ‘Have her bring it to the drawing room because no fire has been lit in the dining room and it is cold,’ he concluded.

  Half an hour later the maid brought in a tray on which was a tankard of beer and a large plate of bread and cheese. Hungry though he was, Burnett could not help admiring her beauty once more. Though he had as yet no desire for marriage, he was not devoid of manly appetites and the prospect of embracing such a lovely woman in his arms was an attractive one. When she placed the tray on a small table by the side of the sofa and looked to leave immediately, he leaned forward, grabbed her by the arm, and tried to kiss her. ‘Don’t go away, Sarah. I am in need of some company,’ he said in a tone that was intended to sound amorous.

  ‘You are too forward, sir!’ she gasped. ‘Surely you would not seek to ruin my reputation?’

  ‘Why don’t you come and sit beside me?’ he pleaded.

  The maid pushed away his hands. ‘Lady Overbury ordered me to stay by your bedside until I could be sure that it was safe to leave you unattended, so I have sat beside you for enough of the day already, sir.’

  ‘Ah, is not fate cruel to tease a man so? That I should be in a bed for most of the day and you so close by and yet not in it with me!’

  ‘I fear, sir, that the blow to your head has affected your judgement. This is not the time nor place for any dalliance,’ she replied stiffly, trying to repress the repulsion she felt for him lest he take offence and cause problems for her.

  ‘Then I fear perhaps I am having a relapse,’ he said, stifling his irritation at her response. ‘I must return at once to your bedchamber so you can nurse me further. The touch of your gentle hand is required.’

  ‘My hand is required elsewhere. This house is hopelessly understaffed,’ the maid replied, pretending that she had not grasped his purpose.

  Burnett continued to stare at her lecherously. ‘I am sure that Lady Overbury will understand if you tell her that you have spent your time attending to my needs.’

  Sarah Darr’s face flushed with annoyance. ‘I think, sir, that your needs are best met by eating what lies before you.’

  ‘But you are a far more delicious morsel! How can you treat a man with spiteful indifference when he loves you to distraction?’ he said in a patronising tone, trying to cup her oval face in his hands.

  ‘What you say sounds more like lust than love to me, sir, and I would have expected better of a man who lays clai
m to being a gentleman. Surely you can see that I am no doxy to fall into your arms at your slightest whim.’

  ‘Then let me at least give thee a kiss for thy modesty,’ he demanded, grabbing her arms and pulling her roughly towards him. No one could have been more relieved than the maid when a knock at the main door of the house put an end to his toad-like embrace. ‘Damn! You’d better go and see who it is,’ he said, releasing her. She left to do as he bid, readjusting her bodice and pleased to be free of his vulgar attention. A few minutes later she was ushering into the drawing room two men, announcing as she did, ‘Squire Thomas Woodforde and Mr George Westbrook are here to see you, sir.’ This duty accomplished she made a welcome escape back to the kitchens.

  Though now somewhat worn in years, Squire Woodforde had always taken care of himself and he was still a handsome and good-natured man with a fine open brow, a clear skin, gentle blue eyes, and teeth that were discoloured but still sound. His tall, lean figure and erect carriage set off his clothes very well, though they were not of the latest fashion. His affable nature and open and honest manner stood out in sharp contrast to the less personable and more pompous stance of his friend, who was a short, stocky, more muscular man with an unhealthily florid face and a preoccupied air. Though more richly dressed, Mr Westbrook presented a far less attractive image. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose was broad and flat, his cheeks were pockmarked, and his mouth overly large. Given his wealth and connections, there was no reason why he should not have been a most happy man, but his manner conveyed only discontent and anger with the world around him.

  ‘Uncle! Mr Westbrook! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’ said Burnett, trying to disguise his annoyance at their untimely arrival.

  ‘Henry Fielding told me you were here to protect Lady Overbury,’ replied his uncle, ‘but by your looks you are in need of protection yourself.’

  ‘We had two intruders this morning and I was attacked.’

  ‘I hope you did more harm to them then they did to you,’ barked Westbrook.

  Burnett blushed. ‘I am afraid, sir, I was struck so hard that I was knocked unconscious and locked into a cupboard. None of us knows what happened next except that Tom Jones found one intruder dead and the other gone. I assume the villains fell out with each other.’

  ‘I would prefer you not to mention that young man’s name in my presence!’ boomed out Sophia’s father, grinding his teeth together like millstones. ‘Mr Jones is a villain and libertine who seeks to make lewdness fashionable!’

  ‘Is Lady Overbury safe?’ asked Woodforde, ignoring his friend’s explosion.

  ‘Yes. I gather she is currently enjoying herself at Prior Park.’

  ‘That is where we should be, but instead we have come here to talk to you about your forthcoming wedding.’

  A wave of confusion passed over Burnett’s face. ‘Forgive me, Uncle, but I did not know that I was getting married.’

  ‘Then I think the blow to your head has affected your intelligence,’ barked Westbrook. ‘You are aware that I have long wished to see my family linked to yours and today I am offering you the hand of my daughter Sophia.’

  Burnett’s pallid face turned even paler, but his desire not to offend his uncle made his reply a politic one. ‘Matrimony is a subject on which I have spent little thought as yet, but I am not insensible to the honour offered me and I am happy to submit to your pleasure.’

  This rather cold response did not please Woodforde. ‘Damn it, sir! Is that all you can say? Miss Westbrook is wondrously beautiful and highly intelligent. What more could you want in a wife?’

  ‘I fear Miss Westbrook has a predilection for Tom,’ stuttered back his nephew.

  ‘I told you not to mention that man’s name in my presence again,’ shouted her father, thumping the table with his fist. ‘Are you a fool, sir? Parents are the proper judges of matches for their children. My daughter will marry whomever I choose for her and it will certainly not be that bastard Tom Jones. You would be mad to refuse her. She is pretty enough to please anyone and she brings with her the promise of a large fortune as I have no son. I should not have to remind you that most men would jump at the opportunity of marrying her.’

  This exchange did little to reassure Woodforde, who was at heart a romantic. He therefore turned to his friend. ‘George, you know that an alliance of our families would bring me much joy, but I do not wish to see both parties dragged into a loveless marriage against their will unless they can grow to love each other.’

  Before Westbrook could respond Burnett muttered weakly, ‘I am sure that I could learn to love Sophia if it’s what you want.’

  This pathetic reply caused Tom Jones to burst into the room. Sarah Darr had informed him of who had arrived and he had been hovering outside the room listening with mounting horror to the conversation within. ‘I love her already with a passion that knows no bounds!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Damn your impertinence,’ snarled Westbrook. ‘Come closer and no one will prevent me licking thee as well as ever thou wast licked in thy life. Wretch that you are, you have tried to seduce my daughter with your good looks and your fancy manners, but I know thou art just a bastard, and I tell you I will see you hanged if you dare try to contact her again. Consort with your wanton hussies and be damned, but leave my daughter alone.’

  ‘Sir, whatever abuse you heap on me, I will not be provoked or lift my hand against you,’ replied the distraught Jones. ‘I respect you as her father.’

  ‘Respect me! I need no respect from filth like you,’ roared Westbrook, his face livid with rage.

  Fearing that his friend might resort to violence, Woodforde appealed to his former protégé’s common sense. ‘Tom, you behold how angry your presence makes Mr Westbrook. Do not tarry here longer. His anger is too inflamed for you to hold any sensible conversation. It is far better that you should leave the room. We will speak later of what you wish to say and, if I feel it is appropriate, I will convey your message.’

  ‘I’ll heed no message from him whoever chooses to deliver it!’ retaliated Sophia’s father.

  Jones did as his uncle requested and then fled from the house in a paroxysm of grief and despair. Once he had gone the two older men reopened the purpose of their visit with Burnett. Thus in Jones’s absence, the marriage of John Burnett and Sophia Westbrook was formally agreed. The Squire and Westbrook then took their leave, the former not entirely sure that he had done the right thing and the latter entirely happy to have the issue resolved according to his wishes.

  This was the state of affairs when Lady Overbury and Henry Fielding returned from their visit to Prior Park at dusk. They told Burnett that it had been an entertaining experience but not one that had added to their knowledge of Lord Kearsley’s activities. In reply he told them not only of his forthcoming wedding but also of Tom Jones’s disappearance from the house.

  ‘The lad had no right to desert his post!’ cried Fielding. ‘I thought better of him!’

  ‘I am sure he will return once he has composed himself,’ retorted Lady Overbury, trying to appear unconcerned whilst mentally reeling at the news of what had happened. What was she to do now? Should she tell Tom Jones, once he had returned, of her meeting with Sophia Westbrook and convey the poor girl’s love for him? Or was it better to let him live in ignorance that his passion was returned? Poor Sophia! Lady Overbury dreaded to think what would happen when Sophia broached the subject of her feelings with her father that evening.

  ‘I will stay here until Tom Jones returns,’ pronounced Fielding. ‘I cannot leave you alone in this house with just John Burnett to protect you. You only have to look at him to see that he is not yet recovered from the injury he sustained this morning.’

  ‘As ever, you are too kind, sir,’ said Lady Overbury, gratefully seizing his hand.

  He turned to Burnett. ‘I suggest, John, that you go downstairs to the kitchen and eat your supper, which I see you have not yet consumed. If you feel up to it, stay on guard. If not, ensure
all doors are securely locked and go back up to your room to rest. I will call you if I need you.’

  ‘Ask Darr to bring us a cup of tea,’ added Lady Overbury.

  Burnett did as he was bid. Shortly afterwards, the maid arrived with the requested tea on a tray and, placing it on top of a small walnut table, she carefully poured them each a cup.

  ‘Now go and make sure that Mr Burnett does not overtax himself,’ commented Lady Overbury.

  ‘I can assure you that I have no intention of letting Mr Burnett exert himself,’ her maid replied, thinking of his horrid approaches to her earlier in the day.

  ‘While we are waiting for Tom Jones to return, why don’t we try and make more sense of the events of the past two days, Lady Overbury?’ ventured Fielding once Darr had departed.

  ‘A good idea, sir. However, I beg you to begin the process because I confess it has been a long day and your mind is sharper than mine.’

  Fielding sat back in his chair, paused a moment to collect his thoughts, and then began expressing his views in a very measured way. ‘We know more than half-a-dozen things for certain. First, that Miss Grey reported seeing a man hanging around the house and that a week ago she feared that he might be an intruder. Second, that Joseph Graves stayed overnight and also heard noises but attributed them to a ghostly rather than a human origin. Third, that Miss Grey refused to be intimidated into leaving the house on the day before you arrived. Fourth, that the man who attacked her lacked a thumb on his right hand and so was definitely not Lord Kearsley.’

  ‘And it is possible this four-fingered man was the person who murdered Lord Kearsley.’

  ‘It’s possible, Lady Overbury, but let us stick to what we know before we enter into any surmises.’ She nodded in agreement and he recommenced his list. ‘Fifth, we know that you saw a man hanging around the house on the evening of your arrival, but we cannot be sure if this has any connection with the murders. Sixth, we know that there has never been any sign of a break-in and so it is probably safe to assume those responsible for what has happened possess a set of keys to the house. If you recall, Joseph Graves said that doors he had locked at night were sometimes open in the morning.’