The Jacobite Murders

by G. M. Best

  ‘A careless intruder, then!’

  ‘Or one who when disturbed did not have time to relock doors. But we are straying from the facts. Seventh, we know that we are dealing with more than one intruder because of Lord Kearsley’s murder and, eighth, we know that Lord Kearsley was engaged in treasonable activities.’

  ‘We also know that a button from his coat was found clasped in Miss Grey’s hand.’

  ‘But that button could have been planted.’

  Lady Overbury nodded her assent. ‘So what are the possible solutions?’ she said, hoping that Fielding might be able to shed some light on the issues that she found totally inexplicable.

  ‘One possibility is that Lord Kearsley thought the housekeeper was about to betray him and so he killed her, but that would not explain why he returned this morning or why he was killed.’

  ‘Nor does it explain the presence of the man with the missing thumb.’

  ‘Agreed. So another possibility is that Miss Grey was helping Lord Kearsley with his work for the Jacobite cause and that both were killed by someone loyal to the crown.’

  ‘But why should that person resort to murder? He could simply have reported what they were doing to the authorities and had them arrested.’

  Fielding could not help but admire the clarity of Lady Overbury’s thinking. ‘Agreed,’ he replied. ‘That is why I think a third possibility is the most likely.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘There is something in this house that people want. That would explain why there was an attempt to frighten off Miss Grey. That would explain the noises over a succession of nights.’

  ‘And if Miss Grey came upon the intruder that would explain her murder.’

  ‘Yes. What it does not answer is who was doing the searching. Was it Lord Kearsley, or the man who killed Lord Kearsley? Or were both of them rivals for possession of what lies hidden in this house?’

  Lady Overbury’s eyes lit up with excitement. ‘I think you have hit on something and, if you are right, there is every reason for not leaving this house until we find what has been so assiduously sought!’

  Fielding winced that Lady Overbury’s courage should be so much greater than her common sense. ‘If I am right, then there is every reason for your ladyship not staying in this house another night. Unless the hidden object has been taken by Lord Kearsley’s murderer, whoever stays in this house remains in danger. The intruder is likely to strike again.’

  Lady Overbury had always hated being instructed. It was the main reason why she had chosen never to marry. The thought of having always to obey whatever a husband wished held no attraction for her. She struggled to retain her composure and answered very coldly, ‘You know my view on this matter, Mr Fielding. I will not be driven out!’

  ‘I am not going to argue with you at the moment, but I will say that it is unfair to put others at risk – not just John Burnett, who has already been injured, and Tom Jones, but also your maid and the temporary housekeeper that I have now found.’

  ‘You may be right, sir, but surely Mr Nash can provide more men to protect all of us?’

  ‘If he does, then the intruder will not return and we will never get to the bottom of this mystery.’

  Lady Overbury saw the sense in his words and for a moment her desire to stay in the house wavered, but then a simple idea occurred to her. ‘Not if we can find what was being sought. Tomorrow let us all search this house from top to bottom, using as many men as Mr Nash can provide.’

  Fielding once again found himself admiring her. ‘On that we can agree, Lady Overbury,’ he said with a smile. ‘So let us turn to lighter matters while we wait for Mr Jones to return. How about a game of cards?’

  ‘I can think of no better way to while away the time,’ she replied instantly.

  At first the cards proved a welcome distraction but, as the evening drew on, both of them paid increasingly less attention to what they held in their hands. Though neither spoke of their mounting concern, both began to fear that something had happened to Tom Jones. Whatever the extent of his grief, each felt it was unthinkable that he would completely desert his duty. It was almost nine o’clock when their long wait was broken by the sound of a loud insistent knocking at the main door. ‘I’ll give the lad a piece of my mind for staying out so late!’ muttered Fielding, feeling a mix of relief and anger that the missing man had finally returned.

  They heard the sound of someone opening the door, but this was followed by a babble of voices. Fielding rushed out, fearing the house might be under attack. Burnett was standing in the open doorway. Outside in the street stood two soldiers carrying a litter on which lay a badly injured Tom Jones. He had obviously been subjected to some terrible ordeal because he was badly bruised and bleeding heavily and he was wearing the strangest of clothes. ‘Don’t just stand there! Bring him in!’ commanded Fielding, pushing aside Burnett, who appeared to have been rooted to the spot at seeing Jones’s condition. ‘Take him upstairs, John. See to it that these men place him on the bed that you used this morning. Then go and fetch a doctor – preferably not the one who attended to you. Once you have done that, seek out Mr Nash. I don’t care what he is doing, get him to come here at once!’ He turned to Lady Overbury, who had turned white at seeing the extent of Jones’s injuries. ‘I will need to ask these soldiers what has happened once they have taken Tom upstairs. Can you and your maid or the new housekeeper tend to him until the doctor comes?’

  She nodded and followed the soldiers as they carried the stretcher up the main staircase. The men were as gentle as they could be because none knew the extent of Jones’s injuries. He appeared to be covered with cuts and bruises and some of the weird clothes in which he was covered were scorched. Lady Overbury clutched her hands together, her heart beating furiously. ‘Heaven help us! What on earth has happened to you?’ she exclaimed.

  Jones reached out feebly and she grasped his hand. ‘I know I should not have left the house, your ladyship. Please forgive me.’

  ‘Never mind that. Mr Burnett has told us the cause. Tell me who has done this to you. Surely not Mr Westbrook?’

  Even in his injured state Jones could not help smiling at such an idea. ‘No, though he would not be sorry to see me in this state. When I left here my mind was in a whirl and I ran mindlessly, not caring where I went. I know not what I did but when I came to my senses I found myself outside the inn known as The Rising Star. I decided to drown my sorrows with a drink and entered. Inside I found the landlord serving beer to a large number of soldiers. Their sergeant informed me that their regiment was due to march against the rebels and that they hoped they would be commanded by the glorious Duke of Cumberland. I responded by wishing them well and urging all present to drink for the cause of liberty and the Protestant faith. I shouted out, “God save King George!” and the words were taken up on all sides. Then a man asked me to enlist in their company so I could play a part in safeguarding the throne. He said that the regiment would be only too glad to welcome such a gentleman as me. When I told him that I was already committed to protecting your ladyship it evoked much mirth among the soldiers because they mistook my meaning.’

  ‘In what way?’

  He blushed. ‘They thought that you were paying me to be your lover.’

  Lady Overbury gasped. ‘Damn their impudence!’ she raged.

  Jones felt her embarrassment more keenly than his injuries and swiftly tried to reassure her. ‘They asked me to drink a toast to my lady love’s health, and I agreed, but it was Miss Westbrook’s name that I shouted out, not yours.’

  ‘You should not have shouted out any name!’ chastised Lady Overbury. ‘If Squire Woodforde hears what you have done, he will cut you off without a penny.’

  ‘I knew it was wrong of me, but I could not help saying it.’

  If Lady Overbury had any doubt about how much the young man loved Sophia, it disappeared at that moment. ‘What happened next?’ she asked.

  ‘One of the soldiers said that
he knew one Sophy Westbrook who had lain with half the young fellows of Bath and that it must be the same woman. I assured him that it was not and that the Miss Westbrook I knew was a lady of great virtue. To this he replied that half the regiment had enjoyed her favours. At this I told him he was a damned liar, whereupon he discharged a bottle full on my head, hitting me above the right temple and bringing me instantly to the floor. I think he would have done more damage had not a lieutenant intervened. I staggered outside and headed back here, but I had not gone far when the man who had hit me blocked my path and struck me unconscious.’

  Lady Overbury saw how much the conversation was exhausting him and urged him to rest, but at that moment Henry Fielding appeared. ‘I think you had better hear the entire story from him. If what the soldiers below tell me is true, the poor lad is lucky to be alive.’

  ‘I’d rather wait than subject him to an interrogation,’ she demurred.

  Tom Jones squeezed her hand and croaked, ‘No, let me tell you. Then I shall sleep better.’

  ‘Very well, if that is what you want.’

  His eyes hooded over as if to hide his pain, but he could not disguise how distressing the events had been. ‘I heard a cacophony of sound all around me when I regained my senses but I found that I could neither move nor see properly. At first in my dazed state I could not understand why. Then I realized that someone had placed a stinking mask over my face. Looking through small slits that had been made in the material I saw a sea of people. They were all laughing and shouting and screaming. At first I could not make out what they were saying. It was as if my sense of hearing had not yet properly recovered from the blow to my head. Then suddenly the words became clear. They were chanting “Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder, treason and plot!” I recalled it was Guy Fawkes’ Day and that a huge bonfire had been built to mark the occasion.’

  He paused and Lady Overbury felt a tightening in her stomach at what he might say next. ‘A few of the crowd struck at me with sticks and I tried to shout out, but I could not,’ he continued, obviously only keeping the terror out of his voice with difficulty. ‘I suddenly realized that my mouth was taped. I struggled to escape but found that I could scarce move at all. My forehead and neck and body and legs had been bound to some kind of pole behind my back whilst my arms had been stretched out and strapped to some kind of crossbar. I was like some crucified man. Then I felt my whole body being moved and I saw people and buildings pass by. I knew I was on some kind of cart because I could feel the vehicle shake and hear the rattle of its wheels as it crossed the cobbles. The crowd roared as I passed and many began to throw objects at me. It was then I knew what I had been turned into and I tried to scream – oh, how I tried to scream – for help!’

  ‘It’s all right, Tom. I know. The soldiers just told me. You don’t have to say more,’ said Fielding, intervening gently. ‘You were inside the costume that had been made for the Guy Fawkes effigy that was to be burnt.’

  ‘My God!’ exclaimed Lady Overbury. For a moment she thought that she was going to faint, but her determination not to cause Jones any further upset helped her recover. She dug her fingers into the palms of her hands and bit her lip as she awaited what would be said next.

  Fielding’s face was grim. ‘He was pulled through the streets on the cart. The crowd subjected the dummy to all that you would expect. They spat at it, hit it with sticks, hurled stones at it. That is why Tom is so injured. He would be in a far worse state had not the costume been a padded one.’

  Tears fell from Lady Overbury’s pain-ridden face and dropped onto the victim of this outrage. ‘That was not the worst, your ladyship,’ the wounded man whispered. ‘It was not just the helplessness of my position, it was the hatred that surrounded me. All the natural prejudice against Papists had been multiplied by drink into a frenzy of intolerance. I shut my eyes and prayed repeatedly to God to forgive me for all my sins. Eventually the cart stopped and I realized that I had been brought to my final destination. Some soldiers grasped hold of me and I felt the poles on which I was tied being lifted up. They took what they thought was a stuffed guy and stuck it at the top of the bonfire pile. I could see the flaming brands waiting to ignite it. The crowd roared their approval. Shouts of “Down with all papists!” filled the air. Desperately I struggled to make some movement that would show them I was no dummy but I was bound too tightly. My murderer had done his work too well.’

  Once again the horror of his situation struck home and Tom Jones could say no more. He fell back wearily and Fielding took over his tale. ‘The lad may not have shown the crowd that there was a man within, but his struggles did make the guy slip slightly from its central position as the bonfire was lit. A soldier was sufficiently stupid to clamber up the pile before the flames began to take hold of it in order to correct this. As he grasped the guy to reposition it he happened to look directly into its face and, to his amazement, he saw human eyes staring back at him through the slits of the hood.’

  ‘I owe my life to him,’ groaned Jones. ‘A lesser man might simply have fled in horror but he yanked off the mask from my face and then threw me down the side of the bonfire, even as the flames began to lick at us both. The last thing I can recall before I fainted was him shouting out, “There is a man trapped within!”’

  ‘Listen to me, Tom,’ said Henry Fielding in a voice that shook with emotion. ‘I vow that I will never ever rest until I have found who was responsible for this outrage!’

  What more might have been said was lost because at that moment Sarah Darr arrived escorting a doctor. ‘Mr Nash is below and asks if you will join him whilst the doctor attends to Mr Jones,’ she announced.

  Lady Overbury leant over Jones and whispered into his ear so that only he could hear what she said. ‘Tom, I saw Sophia today. She is determined not to marry Mr Burnett because she loves you as much as you love her. She wanted me to tell you this. A battle may have been lost today in your struggle to win her, but the war is not over. Remember the old adage that while there is life there is hope.’ Tom Jones smiled and some of the strain etched on his features visibly began to fade.

  ‘What did you say to him?’ asked Fielding, noting the remarkable change in his manner.

  ‘Only words of encouragement,’ she replied. ‘Come, let us go and see Mr Nash.’

  When they entered the drawing room they found both Burnett and Nash awaiting them. The latter rushed to greet them. ‘You don’t need to tell me. The news of what happened at the bonfire was brought to me. The poor lad has had the narrowest of escapes. If any man can ensure young Mr Jones makes a full recovery, it is Dr Oliver whom I have brought with me.’

  ‘Who could possibly want to do this to him?’ queried Lady Overbury, who was still deeply shocked by the whole affair.

  ‘Well, it’s obvious that Mr Jones was targeted from the outset. He must have been followed when he left here. The fight in the tavern was engineered and I suspect he would have been killed then and there had the lieutenant not intervened. As it was, the man followed him to finish the task. Heaven knows what led him to choose such a vicious way of achieving an assassination. Take heart that his cruel action will now ensure his arrest because we know who finished creating the guy – it was a soldier called Humphrey Watson. By escaping what was intended for him Tom Jones has sealed the man’s doom. It is only a matter of time before we capture this Watson and find out what lies behind all this train of murderous events. Until then I have ordered that this house will be under constant surveillance. Whatever else you may do, Lady Overbury, you can sleep soundly tonight in the knowledge that you are entirely safe.’

  7

  DEAD IN THE WATER

  The next morning Lady Overbury rose early so that she could go to the King’s Bath and meet Sophia Westbrook. On her way back from Prior Park the previous day she had told Henry Fielding of her desire to bathe and he had been most helpful. They had stopped to purchase an appropriate bathing costume and he had made arrangements for her to be
collected from the house by sedan chair. In her own mind Lady Overbury could not help feeling that she looked slightly ridiculous as she stared at herself in the mirror. The brown linen jacket and petticoats that she had purchased were far from flattering and she felt they looked even worse when she donned the chip hat that was designed to hold some handkerchiefs. It was no wonder that ladies hid themselves from public view by journeying under cover and when it was scarcely yet light.

  When she emerged from the house she was rather taken aback by the vehicle that was to take her. It looked much like a black coffin and the thought of being enclosed within it was very unappealing. However, the biting cold of the early morning made her enter it speedily. Once inside she was disconcerted to find that its interior stank because the lining had been repeatedly impregnated with moisture from the wet clothes of previous occupants. How could the gouty and rheumatic possibly benefit from exposing themselves to such a horrible form of transport? Had she not faithfully promised to meet Sophia she would have immediately returned to the house and the comfort of her bed. As it was she said a prayer that she would not catch her death of cold and instructed the two chairmen to take her to the King’s Bath as quickly as possible.

  ‘Do not worry, yer ladyship,’ said the older of the two men, smiling and exposing a mouth in which there was only the stump of one blackened tooth left. ‘You’ll be hoisted down into the water just as safe and as snug as a snail in his shell and, when you are done and your pores are all open, we’ll bring you back before the cold morning air can nip you.’

  This imagery and the jolting she sustained during the journey did little to calm Lady Overbury’s mounting nerves. Her only comfort was that she had instructed her maid to follow the sedan chair so that she could have her assistance. Once she reached her destination there appeared to be chairs unloading and people shouting everywhere. Nevertheless with surprising speed Lady Overbury found herself being carried down a narrow and dark passage to a dungeon-like dressing room, where the only furniture was a rush-bottomed chair. A serving woman greeted her and, having given her some bath-cloths, asked whether she also wished to pay for her maid to bathe with her. Lady Overbury indicated that she did and the woman gave Sarah Darr some clothes into which she changed as quickly as her modesty permitted. The two women were then taken into the bathing area and attendants helped lower them up to their necks in the hot steaming water.