Death in Hellfire

by Deryn Lake

  “What shall we do with her?”

  “We’ll get Sir Francis to lock her up overnight and at first light I’ll take her back to London and deliver her into the hands of Sir John Fielding.”

  “What will happen to her?”

  Joe lowered his voice. “She’ll probably end up in Bedlam,” he whispered, and John shivered at the very prospect.

  An hour later he was allowed to go and see Coralie, who was lying in bed, very pale but very much alive.

  “I’m afraid it was Juliana who killed your husband and Lady Orpington,” he said quietly.

  “They both deserved to die,” she answered. “I know it is wrong of me to say that but it would be hypocritical of me to do otherwise. Dr Bancroft gave him some of the poison to do experiments with on a cat. Charles showed the results to Juliana when she came visiting and she must have stolen some at the time.”

  John nodded, afraid to say anything.

  “And now,” Coralie continued, “I must devote my life to my daughter. She has had a terrible start and I must do all I can to make sure she grows up into a fine young woman. Do you know, John, I grew to suspect her all over again. That is why I begged you to let the case drop. I thought she had killed Charles and his mistress out of revenge.”

  “Poor, poor Coralie. What a burden for you to have to bear.” There was a long silence, then he said, “Perhaps she would like to come and visit Rose some time.”

  She covered one of his hands with one of her own. “Oh, my dear friend. What a life we both have led. Tragedy has struck us and yet we are here to tell the tale.”

  “I think, Coralie, that we were both born to survive.”

  She smiled at him. “I expect you are right. I will not marry again. As I have said, I shall now devote myself to my child to the exclusion of everyone else.”

  He looked at her, just a little sadly, if you are sure that that will be enough for you.” He stood up. “Goodbye, Coralie. I wish you well.”

  “I shall never forget you, John. You have saved my life on more than one occasion and you know what they say.”

  “I do indeed. Farewell, my dear.”

  And with that he left the room.

  The next morning he woke to find that Joe Jago had already left in the Bow Street coach and that he and Samuel were dependent on Dominique for a lift back to town, Sir Francis, though, despite the contretemps of the night before, was still intent on enjoying his party and was challenging everyone present to a walk through the grounds ending in an outdoor feast, after which he intended to have a mock battle on the lake. John, strangely depressed by last night’s events, refused politely, as did Samuel. The Frenchman, too, made his excuses.

  “Forgive me, my dear good sir, but I have a mass of work to do. I am afraid that I must bid you adieu. I shall head back for London if you and madam will allow.”

  “Talking of madames,” John whispered to Samuel, “any sign of Betsy?”

  “She was last seen going into a thicket with old Lord Orpington.”

  “He’ll probably die of a heart attack.”

  “Oh, but my dear John, what an exit!”

  His humour somewhat restored, John travelled back to town in good company and was dropped off at the corner of Gerard Street. Walking to Nassau Street and letting himself in with a key he went through to the garden and sat down on a seat.

  He knew now that his lifelong preoccupation with Coralie Clive had finally come to an end. It was finished and he must move on. He asked himself, then, why Elizabeth had been so quiet and what she could possibly be up to. He decided that a letter to her was long overdue. But just as he was going to the library to write it the front door opened and Rose shot through and seized him and hugged him and gave him many kisses.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said “how pleased I am to see you.”

  “Have you finished your work for Sir John, Papa?”

  “Yes, darling, it’s all done.”

  “And will you be at home for a while?”

  “I shall indeed.”

  “Then when you are not working you can take me out for walks like Miss da Costa does?”

  “I certainly will.”

  Octavia, who had followed Rose in, twinkled her blackberry eyes. “I’m not getting married for a couple of months so that we can still go out together, Rose.”

  “Yes, of course we can. But I enjoy walking with Papa too.”

  “It’s really good to be home again,” John said, and picking Rose up in the air he swung her onto his shoulders.

  Chapter Thirty

  That September, on a golden morning, John, dressed in his very best clothes, accompanied Nicholas, also dressed very finely, to St Ann’s, Soho, where the Apothecary took his place as bridegroom’s man. He felt that with this wedding an era was ending and that from now on he would have to spend more time at his shop in Shug Lane and could no longer go wandering about the countryside at the behest of Sir John Fielding. His trusted friend and former apprentice was on the edge of starting a new life and as a result everything would alter drastically.

  The arrival of the bride caused a stir and John turned his head to have a swift glance at her. She came up the aisle slowly, walking on the arm of Sir Gabriel Kent, she not having a father of her own, Sir Gabriel was dressed in a stunning silver suit trimmed with black jet, but for once he was outshone by the bride. She wore white and blue and had on her head quite the most glorious hat with long turquoise ribbons hanging down behind. The colours enhanced her dark eyes and colouring and John thought she was one of the most beautiful brides he had ever seen. And the sight of his father, well in his eighties, walking beside her caused his eyes to fill with tears. He looked at Nicholas and saw that he too was emotional and moved by the charming vision.

  In the front pew on the left sat Rose, quite alone, wearing a dress of emerald green which enhanced the redness of her hair. She waited for her grandfather to give Octavia to Nick and then, when Sir Gabriel sat down next to her, held his hand. And as the couple left the church together she threw rice in their path together with rose petals.

  Amongst the guests were Sir John and Lady Fielding, for Nick had been rescued from terrible circumstances by the Magistrate and owed everything to him. Joe Jago, also an old friend, had been included, and Samuel and Jocasta were present, he grinning heartily and she looking thin and somehow a little unbending.

  “We’ll soon put a stop to that,” said Sir Gabriel, and poured her a large glass of champagne as soon as she came through the front door of number 2, Nassau Street.

  Sam came bustling over. “A fine show, John. Truly excellent. I suppose there’s no hope of you…”

  John looked at him with a sad smile. “I know what you’re going to say and the answer is no. Coralie is devoting the rest of her life to her daughter and has no intention of marrying again. And how could I continue my adventures with a wife?”

  Sam looked a little chastened but said, “No, I suppose not. But all the same it is a pity.”

  “And a pity it will have to remain, my friend.”

  Sir John Fielding came to the Apothecary’s side, led by his wife, who settled him in a chair.

  “Well, Mr Rawlings, you’re going to miss young Nick. Indeed, what are you going to do without him?”

  “I don’t quite know, sir. But no doubt I’ll think of something.”

  In the corner of the salon the musicians started to tune up and John knew that from now on everything would be devoted to dancing and conversation would become almost impossible. But as he wove his way in and out of the sets, partnering all Octavia’s young friends, he wondered if this was to be his fate, a widower in his mid-thirties, always popular, always jovial, and always alone.

  Joe Jago came over as John eventually paused for breath.

  “A very joyous wedding if I may say so, sir. I am delighted to see young Nick settled at last.”

  “Indeed. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him. Dragging logs upstairs for Mr Fielding - as he then
was - so pale and limping so wretchedly.”

  “He’s a different person now,” said Joe with a great deal of satisfaction.

  “Yes, and with such a beautiful girl.”

  Joe looked at him seriously, reading John’s mind. “Oh, you’ll find somebody for yourself some day, sir.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I’m certain of it. An older lady. A person who has been married before.”

  “But where is she, I wonder?”

  “You’ll have to go looking for her, I think.”

  John smiled wryly. “I also have to earn a living, Joe. Let us hope that one day she will cross my path.”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  But both men were being called upon to join the next set and their private conversation ended there.

  Later, after the bride and groom had left and people had started to head for home, John drank one last glass of champagne with his father and Rose, who sipped on a cordial.

  “Well, I thought it all went off splendidly, my son. And I was so honoured to give the bride away.”

  “You looked magnificent, Father. A truly resplendent figure. And so did you, Rose. You were a good girl and behaved perfectly.”

  “It was a wonderful day, Papa. Thank you for my new dress.”

  She gave him a look which was so like Emilia that he drew in his breath sharply.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that you reminded me of your mother, that is all.”

  “I am sure that Emilia was with us in spirit,” Sir Gabriel announced, and looked very wise.

  At that moment, like a portent, there was a knock on the door and a footman stood there.

  “Yes?” said John, looking up.

  “A letter has arrived for you by the late post, sir. I have taken the liberty of putting it on the desk in the library.”

  “It’s from Mrs Elizabeth,” Rose stated into the silence.

  “How do you know that?” John asked, surprised.

  “I just know,” Rose answered, and would say no more.

  And strangely enough when John went into the library and opened the letter he saw to his astonishment that it was from the Marchesa di Lorenzi.

  “My dear John,”” he read. “It is several Months since we last had Communication but now I Feel It would be Right to Speak to You.

  There is something of Interest I have to Tell You and I would be Obliged if You could arrange to Call on Me in the next Month or so.

  I remain Yr Obedient Servant, E di Lorenzi”.

  John sat looking out of the window with a strange joy in his heart. Elizabeth had not finished with him but wanted to see him and about something important.

  Standing up, his limbs aching from so much dancing, he decided that next month, if he could find an apothecary to run the shop while he went away, he would go and visit her before the cold weather set in and the ways grew foul.

  “Elizabeth,” he said under his breath, and just for a moment he had a clear mental picture of her, with her dark, dark hair streaming out behind her and her lips drawing back in a smile.

  Historical Note

  John Rawlings and Sir John Fielding both lived in eighteenth- century London. John Rawlings, as my regular readers will know, was made a Yeoman of the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries on 13th March 1755, giving his address as 2, Nassau Street, Soho. John Fielding was knighted in 1761, when he was forty years old. His work in assisting his brother Henry, the author of Tom Jones, in founding the Runners, later known as the Bow Street Runners, is well known.

  There are several other characters from real life featured in this book, Sir Francis Dashwood, Lord le Despencer, and his famous Hellfire Club have been frequently described. Let me just say that I could find no evidence of Satanic worship, a myth which gained currency during the nineteenth century, though there were certainly mock religious ceremonies at the annual election of the Abbot and during the induction of new members. It is believed, however, that the goddesses Demeter and her daughter Persephone were represented by naked young women made to lie across the altar with their legs spread open and that aristocratic women sometimes volunteered to represent these goddesses. What is known for certain is that good-class whores were hired in London by Paul Whitehead and conveyed to Medmenham Abbey by coach for the pleasure of the assembled company. But the main purpose of the club was, in John Wilkes’s own words, “a set of worthy, jolly fellows, happy disciples of Venus and Bacchus, got occasionally together to celebrate woman in wine and to give more zest to the festive meeting, they plucked every luxurious idea from the ancients and enriched their own modern pleasures with the tradition of classic luxury.”

  Pierre Langlois was a cabinet maker of great renown, crafting furniture of enormous beauty for the aristocracy, whilst his son-in-law, Pierre Dominique Jean, was equally highly regarded in his day. Their bills - and the amounts owing to them - are still extant.

  A fascinating character was the American, Dr Edward Bancroft. He was born in Westfield, Massachusetts in 1744. He was a physician, scientist, philosopher, politician, novelist, technical expert in dyes and a philanthropist. He also introduced Woorara or Indian Arrow Poison into this country, in which he arrived in 1765 or 1766. This poison later came to be called Curare. In his book published in 1769 he added the footnote, “As the Author has brought a considerable quantity of this Poison to England for the use of any Gentleman, whose genius may incline him to prosecute these experiments and whose character will warrant us to confide in his hands a preparation capable of perpetrating the most secret and fatal villany, may be supplied with a sufficient quantity of the Woorara, by applying to Mr Becket in the Strand.” It can be seen from this that the stuff could fall into the wrong hands with the greatest of ease. Incidentally, in the American War of Independence, Bancroft became a double agent, apparently spying for Britain but in reality working for Benjamin Franklin, the colonial agent for several colonies. A man of many parts indeed.