by G. M. Best
‘How do you know this?’ she asked. Not a flicker of emotion crossed her face as he proceeded to tell her of how Lady Overbury and Sophia had returned to Bath with the news, having uncovered her past history in London. Once he had finished, she said almost nonchalantly, ‘It does not matter. When the true king has taken up his rightful place on the throne I will not only be pardoned for all that I have done but also richly rewarded.’
‘That time will never happen,’ he replied. ‘England will not support the Jacobite cause, whatever you may think.’
‘That is where you are wrong. The Hanoverians have not won any great loyalty among the people of this country. Why should they? They are Germans and it is obvious to all that they have used England as a pawn to promote the interests of Hanover. Have you not heard the latest news? The Jacobite army has already moved into England and Carlisle has surrendered without a battle having to be fought. As we speak, Bonnie Prince Charlie is leading his army towards London. It is only fear of the consequences should there be another Jacobite failure and not love for the Hanoverians that now stands between him and success. In my hands I have the means of removing that fear. It is a document signed by many pledging their loyalty. Once it is in his hands it will be read out as a proclamation and others will then flock to his cause. Support for the usurper George II will crumble and London will welcome the prince with open arms.’
‘Then why are you still here in Bath?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘A good question and, as your life will soon be over, one I am prepared to answer. We lack at the moment just a couple of key signatures, but this was to be remedied at two secret meetings, one in Warwick and the other in Coventry. A performance by this touring company at each place was to have provided the necessary cover for those meetings to take place without the authorities becoming suspicious.’ She paused and smiled. Jones could see the fanaticism in her eyes. ‘After that,’ she continued, ‘a trusted rider was to take the completed list of signatures to the prince at whatever place his Highlanders had reached.’
Jones’s mind reeled with the enormity of what he was being told. All he could hope was that he might keep her talking until Fielding managed to find them. He surmised that it was highly unlikely that he had been carried any long distance from where he had been drugged. ‘Was it not foolish to appear in public when people were looking for you?’ he enquired.
‘An unfortunate necessity. I had to replace an actress and prove my worth – that required me to perform here tonight. I knew that Lady Overbury had returned to London and so I thought I would get away with it. It was just unfortunate that you chose to see the play this evening. I doubt if anyone else would have identified me.’
‘But how did you know I was here and had seen you?’
‘Foolish man! Did you really think that if you could see me on stage I could not see you in the audience? You and that interfering novel writer. I was certain that you had both recognized me and I therefore expected one or other of you would attempt to follow me. I saw you hiding in the shadows and speaking to the actor who played Macheath.’ She pulled out a blade that had been hidden within her costume. ‘It would have been better for you had Mr Fielding acted as the spy, leaving you to escort home the young lady who accompanied you. As it is, it is you who will now suffer the consequences of your pathetic pursuit of me.’
Tom refused to be cowed. ‘Whatever you do to me, your plan is in ruins,’ he responded defiantly. ‘My removal will not prevent Sir Henry putting an end to this company touring northwards.’
Her face visibly darkened with irritation. ‘Yes, my cover here is lost and that is very annoying, but I will use it to good effect.’ She smiled at him in such a way that his flesh crept. ‘I know a way of ensuring that Mr Nash and Mr Fielding will follow me southwards while John travels northwards to obtain the final signatures even though there will now be no play to provide cover for the meetings.’
‘How do you know they will seek out only you?’
She held up the blade before his eyes, letting him see its fine edge. ‘Because your death will blind them to all else, Mr Jones. Their desire to avenge you will make them lose sight of everything but finding me.’ She thrust the gag back in his mouth. ‘We don’t want to make this too noisy an event, do we?’ The knife in her right hand began to move slowly towards his throat. ‘Don’t worry. Close your eyes and I’ll make it quick.’ This was said without there being a hint of mercy in her voice. Jones knew she was enjoying playing with him like a cat tormenting the mouse that it is about to destroy. ‘You see I quite liked you,’ she continued. She moved the knife away from him and her left hand gently caressed the side of his face. ‘Indeed, had things been different I might have had some fun extracting you from the arms of that weak Westbrook woman.’ For a moment her hand moved over his chest and came to rest on his groin. Denied speech, all Jones could do was glare his defiance. She laughed and, as she pulled her left hand away, she once again brought the knife in her right hand towards him. ‘Trust me, it will be easier if you close your eyes. I’ll even let you say your final prayers, which is far more than I did for the others.’
Jones had no desire for his last image on earth to be her vicious face and so shut his eyes as she suggested. However, his last thoughts were not a prayer for himself but one for Sophia. How would she cope with the news of his murder? She had endured so much for him and now he was to be taken from her forever. He prayed that God might comfort the woman he loved more than any other in the world. It was as if Sarah Darr could read his mind. ‘Thinking of her, my dear?’ she teased. ‘So am I. When the true king reigns I will beg him a favour.’ She paused and leant closer towards him. ‘That he ensures both Lady Overbury and Miss Westbrook suffer for their interference. I am sure that my former mistress will benefit from swinging on the gallows and, as for Sophia, a spell in prison will soon remove her good looks and her good nature, don’t you think?’
Tom felt the sharp edge of the blade touch his neck, but then a shot rang out and he heard Sarah Darr give a deep groan. He opened his eyes and saw that she was clutching her side with her left hand and blood was flowing out freely between her fingers. She looked at him and a bitter smile twisted her lips. She lifted the knife in her right hand but then suddenly slumped forward, almost landing on top of him. Jones looked up and saw Henry Fielding in the doorway. It was he who had shot her and who now moved rapidly across the room. He dragged the injured woman off her intended victim and then pulled the gag out of Jones’s mouth and began untying him.
‘That was far too close for comfort,’ he muttered. ‘A minute later and I would have been too late.’ He fought back his emotions but Jones sensed the anguish in his heart at such a horrendous thought. He heard his father whisper, ‘I do not think I could have coped with the loss of the son I had just gained.’
‘This day I have learned to twice owe you my life, sir,’ Tom replied with equal emotion. ‘Once for giving me birth and once for preventing my murder. I’ll never forget that.’ His own voice cracked with the intensity of what he felt. Never had life seemed so valuable. He struggled to his feet from the chair, still feeling slightly unsteady because of whatever drug he had been given. ‘How did you find me?’
‘Beau Nash used his authority to extract from the landlord that the actress who played Lucy was called Kitty Pike and that she had a room at the inn. We found that she was not there but there were two other women in it – actresses with whom she shared the accommodation. They claimed to know nothing of her or your whereabouts. Mr Nash left to see if he could pick up your trail because he assumed that Sarah Darr had fled and that you had followed her. Fortunately I chose to make some further enquiries before leaving and spoke to the actor who played Macheath. He said that he had seen you and that, seeing you were a handsome chap, he thought it possible that Kitty might have taken a shine to you. At first he would offer no suggestion as to where the two of you might be, saying that it was none of his business to get anyone in trouble. However, he
aring that Kitty was not all that she seemed, he directed me to try this room – apparently it is a place set aside for assignations that require a degree of privacy. I think Mr Nash will have something to say to the innkeeper about that!’
A heart-rending groan stopped further discussion between the two men. They looked at Sarah Darr lying on the floor. Her face was contorted with the pain from the terrible wound in her side. Despite all that she had done, the two men felt pity for her. Her skin had lost all its vitality and taken on a sheen that betokened her imminent death. They lifted the seriously injured woman onto the nearby bed in order to try and make her more comfortable. ‘Let me die in peace,’ she whispered through gritted teeth as she sought to suppress any further groan. ‘I do not want your pity.’
Tom, despite her murderous intent on his life, gently wiped the drops of pain-induced sweat from her brow. ‘Shall we get you a priest?’ he asked.
‘A priest?’ Even in her pain she seemed to find this amusing. ‘No. God knows how much I have suffered and I care not whether he pardons me or not. I have lived my whole life in Hell. Why should death bring me anything different?’
‘Are you not repentant?’
She shook her head feebly. ‘I would do again what I have done.’
An increasing delirium meant that she then began wavering in and out of consciousness. The bleeding seemed to subside but her laboured breathing became increasingly hoarse and there was a sort of rattling in her throat. Just when they thought the end had come, she suddenly struggled to raise herself up and she looked at Jones with frightened eyes, her lips flecked with blood where she had bitten them to prevent screaming out in pain. ‘I am finished,’ she murmured, ‘but John will ensure that the victory remains ours.’ Her head once again fell back on the pillow and she lost consciousness. The remaining hint of colour in her once rosy cheeks seemed to drain away. She heaved a deep final sigh and her mouth dropped open. Fielding passed his hand lightly across her face, closing the lids across her sightless eyes.
‘Who is this John to whom she referred?’
‘It might be the youth who helped drug me or it could be another of her accomplices. Whoever it is, we have to find him.’
The two men agreed that it made sense for Jones to fetch the night watch and to find Beau Nash and inform him of the latest developments. While he was away, Fielding stayed beside Darr’s body in the hope that the youth who had assisted her might return. This proved pointless because the news that the actress had been shot and killed soon spread. As a consequence none but the curious made any appearance at the room. Once Nash arrived enquiries were set in motion but no trace could be found of the youth and no one appeared to know who he was. Nash therefore turned his attention on interrogating the manager of the touring company, but this too drew a blank. The manager was adamant that he knew nothing of any Jacobite plots. He had merely accepted the offer of a special payment for performances in Coventry and Warwick. As for Kitty Pike – or Sarah Darr as he now discovered was her real name – all he knew was that she had turned up at the very time he needed a replacement actress. Of her previous history he claimed ignorance. All Nash could do was order him not to move his company northwards and threaten to have him tried for treason if he disobeyed.
After two days of fruitless enquiries, Nash called a meeting at his house on the morning of the 29 November. Lady Overbury was given permission to also attend, but Sophia Westbrook was not, much to her annoyance. The account of Tom’s near murder had made her most desirous that he should not place himself in any further danger and she feared that, in her absence, he might commit himself to some action or other demanded by the older men. As Jones was about to knock on Nash’s door, it opened suddenly and a man in black appeared at the entrance and hurriedly brushed past Lady Overbury and Henry Fielding. From the bag that he carried in his hand they surmised that he was an apothecary.
‘Get out, sir! Damn it! I’ll have none of your hypocritical quackery here!’ bellowed a voice from within that they recognized as belonging to Nash.
‘You cannot judge my skills, sir, because you insist on ignoring what advice I give and refusing to take what medicine I prescribe,’ complained the doctor from his place behind Fielding. ‘Why won’t you follow my prescriptions?’
‘Egad, sir, if I had followed your last prescription, I should have broken my neck for, in my disgust at your nonsense, I flung it out of an upstairs window,’ came Nash’s prompt response. ‘Get out!’
A bottle hit the door and smashed into many pieces, some of which struck Jones. The doctor muttered that he preferred to treat ailments than deal with insanity and then departed. Jones, brushing off splinters of glass from his coat, knocked at the semi-open door. ‘Have I not told you to leave?’ Nash roared.
‘I beg pardon, Mr Nash, but I think you mistake me for your doctor, who has truly gone.’
A slightly dishevelled Nash appeared and his anger turned almost immediately into embarrassment. ‘My apologies, but all this business has made me unwell. I do not like being so frustrated at every turn by these traitors in our midst. Early this morning I called that buffoon to ease my thumping head but the man only arrived a few minutes ago. He tried to excuse his late arrival by saying that he was called up at all hours, sometimes to set a broken arm, leg, or the like. I told him it sounded to me as if it was merely by accident that he got up at all! Then he wanted to purge and potion me to extinction and I would have none of it. Come in, come in.’
They duly followed Nash into what was a very fine room richly furnished. He beckoned them to sit down and proceeded to get down to the business of their meeting as if nothing had happened prior to their arrival. ‘I have sent messages to the government warning them that a most dangerous set of documents is probably heading in the direction of the Jacobite army. I have no doubt that they will send out men to try and intercept whoever is carrying them. However, I am not confident that they will succeed. They have no leads except that we believe secret Jacobite meetings were scheduled to occur in Warwick and Coventry.’
‘But surely those meetings will not happen now because of what has happened here in Bath?’ queried Fielding.
‘I agree and that is why I think our best chance of success is if we can identify who this “John” is and so follow him in order to prevent his treachery. I am not convinced it was the youth who helped poison Mr Jones. Such important documents would not be given to so callow a youth. We must all think about all that has happened since that fateful day when Miss Grey was murdered. It is just possible that by sharing our memories a clue to the identity of Sarah Darr’s accomplice may emerge.’ He hesitated and then looked in Lady Overbury’s direction. ‘I suggest that you speak first, your ladyship, if you are happy to do so.’
She nodded her acquiescence. ‘I am content to be the first though as yet I have no answers, despite going over and over what has happened in my mind. The only thing I am certain about is that Sarah Darr was a most ruthless woman. She murdered the housekeeper Agnes Grey when she refused to hand over the documents she sought. She then began searching the house in Queen Square and not only attacked John Burnett but also murdered Lord Kearsley. After that she ordered the viciously cruel attept on Tom’s life on Guy Fawkes’ Night and, when the assassin failed, she either murdered him or had him murdered in the King’s Bath. When she discovered that Joseph Graves had the documents she sought she ensured his murder. Had Sir Henry not shot her, she would have slit Tom’s throat without the slightest remorse. All this shows that we were dealing with a woman completely consumed by wickedness but it gets us no closer to identifying the man whom she called “John”.’
‘Unless the two Johns are the same John,’ interrupted Fielding.
The others in the room all looked bewildered and it was Nash who voiced their confusion. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Could John Burnett be the man we seek?’ asked Fielding.
There was a deathly silence as the others absorbed this new possibility. ‘I
think it strange that Sarah Darr got away with doing so much in the house in Queen Square,’ commented Lady Overbury. ‘If she had an ally in John Burnett, then it would make more sense. It would certainly have made Lord Kearsley’s murder easier. Indeed, maybe it was Burnett who killed him. I seem to recall, Mr Nash, that you were suspicious at the time as to whether the blow to Burnett’s head was a genuine attack.’
‘Yes, but I wrongly attributed the blow to being a put-up job by Tom. At the time I gave no thought to the possibility that Sarah Darr might have inflicted it to disguise the fact that Burnett was her accomplice.’
‘And possibly more than just an accomplice,’ said Fielding. ‘Although I said nothing at the time it has always seemed strange to me that Burnett was so reluctant to marry Miss Westbrook. She has everything a man could want in terms of beauty, character and wealth, yet a selfish and greedy man like Burnett had to be more or less forced into accepting that he should marry her. Could it be that was because he loved Sarah Darr?’
‘But we have no sign that she loved him,’ interposed Nash.
‘A woman like Sarah Darr would be perfectly capable of wrapping a man like Burnett round her finger if she chose, whether she liked him or not,’ replied Lady Overbury rather acidly.
‘Whatever their relationship, Burnett’s involvement would make sense of what happened on Guy Fawkes’ Night,’ resumed Fielding. ‘The nature of the attempt on Tom’s life always struck me as odd. Why try to burn someone alive when a simple knife thrust would suffice? Now I think I have the answer. It was Burnett who made the arrangements for Tom’s murder. He hated Tom because he had become so obviously the favourite of his uncle. From his perception, how dare the bastard take precedence over the person who was the squire’s true heir? He therefore deliberately devised as cruel a death as possible for the man he loathed.’
Jones shuddered at the memory of that terrible night and, although so far he had said nothing, he now felt compelled to add, ‘Since we were children I can vouch for the fact that John always had a love for the dramatic. Though it pains me to say it, I can see him taking pleasure in not only hiring a man to burn me alive but hiring men to string up Graves onto the west front of the abbey. He and Darr doubtless overpowered the poor old man. Darr then saw to his removal from the house, leaving Burnett to hand us her bloodstained apron and to mislead us into thinking that she had been abducted.’
