Lord Ashford's Wager

by Marjorie Farrell

  After a day and a half of interviewing dozens of households and coming up with nothing, however, he decided to give himself a break and follow up on Lord Fairhaven’s lead.

  Of course, the old solicitor would not show Gideon the will, but he confirmed the fact that Lady Fairhaven had made recent changes, which in itself was significant.

  “Can you tell me if and how much Lord Ashford would benefit under this new will, Mr. Reresby?”

  “I am not free to tell you how much Lord Ashford would benefit,” responded the solicitor.

  “I will have to wait for the reading, then. Thank you, Mr. Reresby. You have been most helpful.”

  “I hope so, Mr. Naylor.”

  So she changed her will to benefit Ashford, thought Gideon. I am afraid, Lady Joanna, things are not looking good for your old friend. If he knew about the will…

  Gideon hailed a cab and directed the driver to Newgate.

  Chapter 19

  Tony, who had been trying to ignore the cries of a new prisoner who sounded as if he belonged in Bedlam, not Newgate, was struggling to get through the meditations of Marcus Aurelius. Joanna had sent over several books, and he still couldn’t figure out whether they represented her attempts at humor or whether she seriously thought he might find them valuable. At any rate, the old Roman was better than Foxe’s Martyrs and William Law’s Call to a Devout and Holy Life—but just barely. Tony supposed that in extremis a man should be turning to God or philosophy, but he himself thought a laugh would have done him a lot more good. His situation was serious enough, thank you. He was about ready to pitch the book and look for a game of cards, which he had sworn to avoid, when he was summoned to the visitors’ room.

  His face fell when he saw that it was not Joanna but the Bow Street Runner who had brought him here.

  “What do you want, Naylor?” he asked with barely veiled hostility.

  “I want to ask you a few more questions, my lord,” Gideon answered in neutral tones. “Lady Joanna Barrand has employed me on your behalf.”

  Tony felt more humiliated than when he had been arrested, if that were possible. Here he was, helpless, and Joanna was likely paying Naylor out of her allowance. He didn’t think he could stand to be so beholden to her, and instead of feeling grateful, he felt angry.

  “I will not have it,” he declared. “Consider yourself dismissed.”

  Naylor looked up at Tony with his mild blue eyes. “Please sit down, my lord. I am afraid,” he added with a quick smile, “that it is not in your power to dismiss me, since you are not the one who has hired me.”

  “How could Joanna do this?” asked Tony as he seated himself on the chair.

  “I rather think she did this to help you,” said Naylor ironically. “Is there something you don’t wish me to be investigating, my lord?” he added mildly, which caused Tony to look at him more closely.

  “You are a deceptively mild man, aren’t you, Naylor?”

  “It has been remarked upon before,” admitted Gideon. “Now, my lord, if you are innocent, it can only benefit you if I investigate further.”

  “I just can’t bear being beholden to Joanna,” groaned Tony.

  “Taking money from Lady Fairhaven didn’t seem to bother you.”

  “Damn you, Naylor. She loved me. I knew that I had something to give her in return. My friendship and affection were hers.”

  “And you have no affection for Lady Joanna? I thought you have been friends since childhood.”

  “Of course I care about her, but it is an entirely different situation. She is an unmarried young lady whose reputation would be ruined should this get out. And she doesn’t love me in the same way Claudia did.”

  Gideon wanted to shake Ashford. What a fool the man was. Within minutes of sitting with the lady, it had been obvious to Gideon that she was in love with the young idiot. And after years of friendship, the man was still oblivious!

  “Look, Naylor,” Tony continued. “I know I don’t sound very admirable. I sound like an arrogant fortune hunter, in fact. But it wasn’t like that. Lady Fairhaven and I were good friends. There was love on her side and affection on mine, which we both hoped would develop into something stronger after we married. She knew I needed her money to save Ashford, but she also knew that I cared about her. She could have done far worse, after all.”

  “Like Lord Fairhaven?”

  “He was not her choice. Her parents sold her when she was only seventeen, although it turned out to be a very happy marriage, from what she told me.”

  “No, I meant the present Lord Fairhaven.”

  “Mark Halesworth!”

  “You don’t like him?”

  “That is putting it as mild as you appear, Naylor,” said Tony with a grin. “I knew him in school. He is a cold fish and interested only in money.”

  “Now tell me again what happened that night,” Gideon asked, dropping the topic of Lord Fairhaven for the moment.

  “I’ve already told you all.”

  “Tell me again.”

  Tony sighed. It was painful to go over it again. “I had borrowed money from Claudia earlier that week. And promised to pay off my debts. I didn’t. I went back to the tables and lost it all and then won back a part of it. I had to face her with that, which wasn’t easy.” Tony hesitated.

  “Go on.”

  “I was just thinking that if I hadn’t broken my promise, she might still be alive. But then, how could an outside intruder have known about the money?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I don’t know why we are going over this again, since you clearly believe I am guilty, Naylor. Joanna is wasting her money.”

  “Continue, my lord,” said Gideon, softly but firmly.

  “I called on Claudia the next night to ask her for more money. We went into the library. Dawson came in with brandy right in the middle of an argument. He would have heard her refuse me the money. That is certainly true. But then she sent him off to bed. We talked for a while and I convinced her that this time I really did mean to give up gaming. That I would pay off my immediate debts and stay out of the hells. And we became betrothed.” Tony stopped.

  “And…”

  “I can’t really believe it, you know,” he said with tears in his eyes. “That she is dead. There is a part of me that thinks this is a very long and particularly bad nightmare and that when I wake up, Claudia will be there.”

  “What happened then?” Naylor was insistent.

  Tony passed a hand over his eyes. “I said good night, and I left. Jim let me out.”

  “The new footman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you give him any money, my lord?”

  “I slipped him a guinea, I was so happy about the betrothal.”

  “And then you left?”

  “And then I left.”

  “Supposing that this were true…”

  “It is, damn it, it is!”

  “Then who do you think killed her?”

  “I don’t know. There have been a number of housebreakings in the neighborhood recently. Couldn’t it have been a thief, not expecting anyone to be awake?”

  “And what of Jim? He has completely disappeared.”

  Tony frowned. “I would not have thought him the sort to be capable of murder. He seemed to care about Claudia, as did all of her servants.”

  “And Lord Fairhaven?” asked Gideon, keeping his voice even and uninflected.

  “I would like to say, of course, it was Mark. I don’t like him. But what would be his motive?”

  “Money. The commonest of motives, I am afraid,” said Gideon with a rueful smile. “Lady Fairhaven inherited a fortune when her husband died.”

  “Yes, but Mark is quite wealthy in his own right. He inherited the estate, the title, and takes in quite a bit from the business. What more could he want?”

  “For some people, when it comes to wealth, there is never enough,” commented Gideon. “What of Lady Fairhaven’s will?”

  Tony looked blan
kly at him, and Gideon thought to himself that either he was a very good actor, Lord Ashford, or he was telling the truth. And he gave equal weight to each possibility at the moment.

  “Would she even have made out a will yet? After all, she was a relatively young widow.”

  “But a very wealthy one. The Fairhaven solicitor saw to that. Mark Halesworth was to inherit everything in the case of her death, should she not remarry and have children.”

  “So he stands to inherit all now? Doesn’t that give him a strong motive?” asked Tony.

  “It might. Except that evidently Lady Fairhaven made some changes in her will in the last two weeks. I do not know the details, but I understand they were to your benefit, my lord.”

  Tony’s eyes widened. “But we weren’t even betrothed at that point.”

  “You seem to be telling the truth about one thing, my lord. Lady Fairhaven did indeed love you. My guess is that she left you enough, whatever happened between you, to save your estate. It is unfortunate, however, that she could not foresee her murder…”

  “Well, I am a dead man then,” said Tony, getting up from the table.

  “Not yet. The will has not yet been read. If it is not read before the hearing, you may well be freed.”

  “And then arrested again immediately after!”

  “Not if I can find any evidence that points to someone else, my lord.”

  “It is hopeless, Naylor.”

  Naylor sighed. “You have so little faith in my abilities, my lord.”

  Tony had to laugh at the patently mocking tone in Naylor’s voice.

  “I admit your situation is not good. But neither is it hopeless.”

  “Do me a favor, Naylor.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “You will no doubt be reporting back to Lady Joanna?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Ask her to send me Miss Austen’s latest, will you? I don’t think I can go back to Marcus Aurelius after this.”

  Chapter 20

  Joanna smiled when Naylor conveyed Tony’s request. “Tony is not drawn to the stoic Roman? Well, I suppose I am not surprised. Marcus Aurelius was one of Ned’s favorites. Tony preferred Caesar and his battles. How did you find him otherwise, Mr. Naylor?” Joanna asked, motioning the Runner to sit down.

  “He has little enough confidence in my skills, my lady. Or else he knows there is no one else out there to find.”

  “And which do you think is the truth?”

  “I try to stay open-minded, my lady, while I am investigating a case. There was certainly enough evidence against Lord Ashford to arrest him. Whether there is enough to hold him is for the judges to decide.”

  “But having talked to Tony again, you cannot possibly believe that he is a murderer,” protested Joanna.

  Gideon looked very different for a moment or two, his face hard, his eyes sharp. “I have proved the most innocent-seeming men and women guilty of horrendous crimes, my lady.”

  Joanna shivered. It seemed that Naylor was seeing, right then in his imagination, deeds bloody and violent. Then his face softened. “But I must admit that Lord Ashford is most convincing in his protestations of innocence.”

  Joanna breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Have you discovered anything about the missing footman?”

  “Not yet. In fact, that is what I will be concentrating on again tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Naylor, for all your efforts,” said Joanna, summoning the butler to show Naylor out.

  She sat there in the library for a while. The hearing was in a few days. How on earth could Naylor find out anything by then? What if this Jim were dead or had fled London? What if he hadn’t seen anything at all? Then Tony might be bound over for trial, and quite possibly hanged. And she would have to live out the remainder of her life without him.

  * * * *

  Gideon started early the next morning. About to break for a pint and a steak-and-kidney pie, he tried one more house on Curzon Street. At first, it seemed as if in all the households: no one could remember an older footman named Tolin. But then the cook, who had been working there for years, said, “Wait a minute, Mr. Naylor. Does it have to be a footman?”

  “What do you mean?” Gideon asked.

  “Years ago I knew a house parlormaid by that name. She would be about the right age now to be this lad Jim’s mother.”

  Gideon’s face brightened. “Used his mother’s name perhaps? That in itself is very interesting. Do you remember what happened to her?”

  “She married the footman from the Pentlow household. But I don’t remember what happened to her after that.”

  “And what was the footman’s name?”

  By this time all of the servants were holding their breath. Imagine old Mrs. Conklin being able to help solve a murder case.

  “Crook? No. But something like that. Let me think…”

  Gideon waited patiently as Mrs. Conklin screwed up her face and closed her eyes.

  “Rooke. That were it. Henry Rooke. He was a very handsome young footman. I don’t blame her for running off with him.”

  The butler pounded Mrs. Conklin on the back. “Good for you, Mrs. Conklin. You just might have solved the case, eh, Mr. Naylor?”

  Gideon grinned. “Not yet. But this may make it a lot easier.”

  And it did. He only had to retrace his steps and give the correct name at a few houses before he came to one where an older servant remembered the Rookes very well.

  “He worked for Sir Horace Pentlow for many years, sir. But he retired a few years ago.”

  Gideon was off. Sir Horace lived only a few streets away, and by this time he was too intent on finding Jim’s parents to pay attention to his protesting stomach.

  Sir Horace was at home, and when he was reassured that no information he gave would be used against his old servants, he gave Gideon their address.

  The Rookes lived in the first small house next to a pub off the King’s Road. The Bird and Whistle. Gideon could smell the ale and decided, since it was now almost supper-time, he could justify a short detour. The Rookes would likely be home having their own tea or supper anyway.

  He took a window seat and watched the residents of the street come and go. It was a poor neighborhood, but respectable, and he felt much more at home in this pub than he had in Lady Joanna’s library, although she would never have guessed it. That was one thing about being a Runner, thought Gideon. You dealt with such riffraff all day that a street like this felt like a corner of Mayfair. And what was he, after all, but an old west-country man? His own father had been in service to the local squire: his head groom. Gideon could have stayed and worked his way up, either in the stables or the house, but couldn’t stand the idea of not being his own master. When the recruiters came by one day, he just up and left. Of course, he had hardly considered the fact that in the army one was not one’s own master! And the irony was, with all his knowledge of horses, he ended up on the 47th Foot. He had seen a bit of the world, both beautiful and awful, and when he returned to Somerset, he found his mother dead and his father pensioned off.

  There was nothing for him at home, and so after a long visit during which he stayed with his sister (she had married a neighboring farmer) and enjoyed being Uncle Gideon to her children, he took off for London. He had heard of the Runners and knew that an ex-soldier had a good chance of being hired. He could have applied for the horse patrol, but liked the greater freedom the Runners had, traveling all over England. So here he was still, with aching and swollen feet, he thought, as he wiggled his toes in his boots.

  He wondered if Jim would have taken refuge with his parents. Well, he would soon find out, he thought, as he rose and left his money beside his plate.

  A few minutes later he was knocking on their door. They were on the second floor, just above a small butcher shop. Mr. Rooke, who answered the door, might well have been a footman still, with his straight posture and expressionless face. His eyebrows lifted, however, when he recognized Gideon as a Robin
Redbreast.

  “Mr. Henry Rooke?”

  The old man nodded.

  “I am Gideon Naylor of Bow Street. I need to ask you a few questions. May I come in?”

  Mr. Rooke pulled the door open and Gideon followed him into the parlor.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Naylor?” asked the old man, sounding puzzled.

  “You have a son, Jim, I believe?”

  The mask dropped, and a concerned father, not a well-trained servant, stood in front of Gideon.

  “Nothing has happened to our Jim, has it?” he asked, his voice lowered.

  “I have no reason to believe so. Yet,” added Gideon, “it is just that he has disappeared from his place of employment rather suddenly. And I need to ask him some questions.”

  “From Halesworth’s?”

  “Yes, three nights ago. The butler left him in charge when he retired for the evening, and Jim was gone in the morning. He had never even gone up to his room, according to the other footman. He could still be in his livery, as a matter of fact,” said Gideon slowly, not having thought of that. Although, he immediately said to himself, if he were indeed still in his livery, he might well be dead.

  “What do you mean, the other footman? Livery? You must have the wrong Jim, Mr. Naylor. My son is not in the service.”

  “But you mentioned the Halesworths,” said Gideon.

  “Yes. Halesworth Limited Jim is a clerk there,” said his father proudly. “We sent him to school so he would not have to follow us into service.”

  “Your son, Jim Rooke, works as a clerk in Mark Halesworth’s—Lord Fairhaven’ s—firm?”

  “Yes, sir. Has done for some months.”

  “When did you last see Jim?”

  The older man frowned. “He usually comes home every Sunday, but these last few weeks he has been coming over on Wednesday afternoons.”

  “And he never told you he was working in Lady Fairhaven’s household as an under-footman?”

  “No!”

  “Well, he was. And on the night of the murder, he was the last one to see her alive, except for the murderer and Lord Ashford. Unless Lord Ashford is her murderer,” added Naylor under his breath. “Thank you, Mr. Rooke, you have been a great help to me.”