He finally fell into bed exhausted by the struggle and was surprised in the morning to see a ring of red welts on his right hand. Then he remembered that when the temptation was the strongest, he had bitten down on his hand almost hard enough to break the skin.
Chapter 24
He got the Barrands’ invitation that morning and sent back an immediate refusal. He couldn’t imagine facing them, especially Joanna. He was deeply grateful to her, but was also very shamed that a woman to whom he was connected only by friendship had come to his rescue. And he had already decided that his withdrawal from society was the best course.
When he got Joanna’s note, however, threatening to call on him if he didn’t come to supper, he gave in. Damn her, he thought, ripping the note in half and throwing it in the fire, she would do it, too. Risk her reputation again for him. Why wasn’t she a meek and mild little miss, this old friend of his, instead of such a strong-willed, stubborn woman? He fired a note back, accepting the dinner invitation only.
Joanna was relieved when she saw Tony’s response, for she had been afraid she had gone too far. She dressed very carefully that evening, trying on one dress and then another, before settling on her apricot silk. This was so unusual for her that her abigail remarked upon it to the housekeeper: “After all, it is only Lord Ashford come for dinner, and my lady has known him from childhood!” The housekeeper said nothing aloud, but added to herself, And loved him since then too, I would wager.
At first, Tony wasn’t sure whether the fact that it was only the family for dinner made it easier or more difficult. At first, they all uttered platitudes: “So glad to see you free, lad.” “Happy to be so, sir.” After all the polite nothings had been said, however, there was an uncomfortable silence at the dinner table until Tony broke it and finally opened the topic that was on all their minds.
“This is a meal made in heaven after Newgate fare, Lady Barrand.”
“Was it really dreadful, Tony,” she asked, reaching over and patting his hand.
“No. Well, yes,” he admitted. “I was very lucky that I could buy my way into a private room. I hope I never have to see the place again.”
“It is unlikely that you will, Tony,” Joanna’s father commented.
“The magistrates warned me that I could be arrested again were any further evidence found.”
“Well, I have great hopes that Mr. Naylor will find something,” said Joanna matter-of-factly, although her hands were shaking at the thought of Tony back in Newgate.
“I am ashamed I haven’t thanked you all for hiring him,” Tony said, flushing with embarrassment. “It was very difficult to accept such generosity.”
“Nonsense,” Lord Barrand answered. “We are old friends and neighbors. It is the least we could do. And besides, it was Joanna’s idea, you know.”
“Yes, I do know,” Tony answered in a dead voice.
Joanna looked over at him. She had never given any thought to how Tony might experience her interference. She had acted immediately and from the heart. But men had very strange ideas about honor and pride, and she realized that although they were old friends, Tony might feel uncomfortable about being under such an obligation to her. All of a sudden she felt terrible. She had never wanted that. She had only wanted to help him.
“You had a report from Mr. Naylor, didn’t you, dear?” asked Lady Barrand, very conscious of the sudden heavy atmosphere at the table.
“Yes. He has discovered the identity of the missing under-footman, Tony. Jim’s real name is Rooke, and he was employed as a clerk at Halesworth Limited until a few weeks ago.”
No matter what he felt about Joanna’s interference, Tony could not help but be interested in such a piece of information.
“Surely Mark Halesworth would have known him, then? Has Naylor questioned him yet?”
“No. But that is his next step. As well as continuing his search for Jim.”
Tony groaned. “The man could be anywhere in London.”
“Maybe Halesworth will have some information,” said Lord Barrand reassuringly.
* * * *
When it was time to leave for the theater, Tony made it clear that he had no intention of making the Barrands a target for gossip.
“We invited you to fight the gossip, Tony,” protested Joanna, with a touch of impatience in her voice.
“Perhaps I don’t want you to help, Joanna,” he said, so softly that her parents, who were on their way to the door, didn’t hear. “And you risk your own reputation,” he said, conscious that he had allowed his irrational resentment of her help to escape.
All the color left Joanna’s face and then flooded back, as she first blocked and then felt the full impact of his remark. Her eyes flooded with tears and she had to quickly turn her face to avoid further humiliation.
Tony wished himself back in Newgate for his thoughtlessness. For the first time in all the years they had known each other, he had purposely wounded Joanna. He immediately realized that he had never even imagined she had the capacity to be hurt like this or that he had the power to do it. In a few seconds he had caught a glimpse of a vulnerable Joanna, a Joanna he had never known existed.
“Jo,” he said hesitantly, reaching out to touch her shoulder, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I am very grateful for what you have done for me.”
Joanna quickly wiped the tears off her cheeks and took a deep breath before she turned and said in a low, fierce voice, “Well, I don’t want your damned gratitude, Tony. I want—” She caught herself just in time. “I wanted to help you because it is what any old friend would wish to do for another.” She smoothed her dress and stood up, becoming the old Joanna again, imperturbable, humorous, and self-contained. “Now, are you going to retreat, or are you going to take on the gossips as you took on the French?”
Tony smiled, relieved that his old Jo was back. “When you put it that way, my lady, what choice do I have?”
* * * *
While Tony and the Barrands were taking on the ton, Gideon Naylor was sitting in the Garrick’s Head drinking ale with a few of his out-of-work actor friends. He was basically a quiet man and enjoyed their company, for he could always count on their volubility. Indeed, by the end of an evening he could count on one or the other of them giving a fully declaimed monologue from one of his last roles. Naylor became their audience of one, and they played to him shamelessly. Occasionally they would push him to show one of the characters he used from time to time in his investigations, and they all agreed that he could have a career at the Drury Lane anytime he wanted to quit the Runners.
On this night, he was quieter than usual and seemed even a little distracted. Only a particularly dramatic rendering of Hamlet’s third soliloquy, given by one of his friends to show that he, Robert Carthy, would have made a Dane superior to Kean’s, that he would have gradually worked toward a grand crescendo, caught Naylor’s attention.
“Well, you didn’t have much crescendo in your Fortinbras, did you, Bob?” teased one of his companions.
Gideon sat there, letting it all flow around him, Hamlet’s insight that “one can smile and smile and be a villain,” repeating itself in his mind. Somehow it seemed important to his present case to remember that. What was Lord Ashford really like? Did his smile come from the inside, from genuine amusement, or was it only assumed? Did Lord Ashford “seem,” or, like the Dane, did he “know not seem”? Someone poked him in the ribs. “You are more than usually silent tonight, Gideon. Working on a new case?”
Gideon nodded. “A capital case,” he replied. “The murder of Lady Fairhaven.”
“The Fairhaven case? Didn’t they already get Ashford for that?”
“I arrested Ashford,” Gideon remarked with a modest smile.
“But I heard he got off,” said Bob.
“Not enough hard evidence,” admitted Gideon.
“What do you think, then, Gideon?”
“I try not to.”
“Oh, no, here he goes again with his
peculiar methods. We ought to call him a Bow Street Walker. Plod, plod, plod, and then, all of a sudden, inspiration, and our Gideon has solved the case!”
“Well, but he does solve some cases like that,” Bob protested.
“I’ve walked miles already for this one, lads,” said Gideon with a smile, as he got up from the table. “And I have miles more to cover, I’m sure. I’m off. I need my rest.”
“Ah, homeward to a cold and empty bed. Farewell, Gideon.”
“His bed is no colder nor emptier than ours.”
“And that is the truth!”
Gideon turned at the door and looked affectionately back at his friends. They were good company, actors, and he was very glad of the proximity of Bow Street to Covent Garden and the theaters. His bed was usually empty until he himself climbed into it, and on nights like tonight when he was tired and lonely, it was good to distract himself by lifting a pint or two with his friends.
His rooms were only a few streets away. The house was clean, the rent reasonable, and the landlady a decent woman who had grown quite fond of her quiet lodger. Most of the time, Gideon was content with his chosen career and his cozy flat. But once in a while, like tonight, he wanted something more.
When he had returned from Portugal and gone home to Somerset, he had hoped that Mary Booth, with whom he had walked out a few times and from whom he had stolen a few kisses, might be waiting for him. But four years was a long time, and of course she had married. Not that they’d made any promises, but he was fond of her and had dreamed of her, and it did hurt, although he couldn’t blame her in the least.
“I waited as long as I could, Gideon,” she had told him as she stood there with a toddler clinging to her skirts and another one clearly on the way. “You were my favorite,” she said with lowered eyes, “but Samuel and I are very happy.”
Gideon had wished her well and not stayed around to embarrass her or himself. With his mother gone, and the rest of his family settled down and his old love unavailable, it was easy to see the city as a place of promise and a better future.
And so it had turned out to be, up to a point. He could never have stomached a job in service. Nor had he been drawn to factory work or farming. And after the army, he found he needed a certain amount of excitement to feel alive.
What he did was useful. The money was as good or better than anyone with his background could expect. But as he lay his head on the pillow, he wished there was someone beside him, someone to whom he could turn for encouragement and comfort. But what woman would be willing to share his life: out all hours, hobnobbing with the lowest criminals to get information, smelling of Newgate from time to time. No, it was just time to get himself a whore, he told himself as he drifted off. He would visit Mrs. Doyle’s tomorrow night.
Chapter 25
The next morning, after coffee and fresh rolls from the local baker, Gideon set out for the Fairhaven townhouse.
At first, the butler refused to inform Lord Fairhaven of his presence. “His lordship is very busy today and has no time for a caller without an appointment.”
“I understand. But if you tell him it is Gideon Naylor from Bow Street, I am sure he will find a way to see me.”
The man immediately became more respectful and went to deliver the message. He came back, looking a bit resentful at his employer’s response, saying: “His lordship can see you now.”
“Thank you.” Gideon was amused at the man’s annoyance. Servants to the rich and powerful often took on an air of self-importance that even outstripped their masters. He was used to it and used to the quick about-face when he identified himself. No one wanted to offend a Runner.
Lord Fairhaven was seated at his desk, going through the earl’s correspondence. Gideon had to clear his throat to gain his attention, he was so absorbed. Or seemed so, thought Naylor. Now why did that word pop into his mind?
“Good morning, Mr.…?”
“Naylor, my lord. Gideon Naylor.”
“Ah, yes. Please sit down. I have only a few minutes to give you,” said Mark, waving his hand over his cluttered desk, “but of course bringing Lady Fairhaven’s murderer to justice is of the greatest importance to me.” Mark frowned.
“Not that I hadn’t already thought he’d been caught. But I understand Lord Ashford was released yesterday.”
“Yes, my lord,” responded Gideon, sitting down on the other side of the desk. “The magistrates decided that there was not enough evidence: no witness to the crime, nothing left behind that would identify him.”
“But what about his motive?” said Mark angrily. “He certainly had that. The man was desperate and Claudia had just refused him money.”
“On the other hand, Lord Ashford states that he hoped to marry Lady Fairhaven. Indeed, that they became betrothed that night. That would certainly give him a motive to want her alive.”
“He is lying. I don’t think she ever would have married him. And I assume you received my note about Claudia’s will. If Ashford were to benefit under that, then there is a strong motive.”
“I was grateful for your information, my lord, and I did speak with Reresby. It does seem as though Lord Ashford will benefit, but it is not clear by how much, or if he knew about it.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Claudia was foolish enough to tell him,” said Mark.
“Yes, my lord. It is possible.” Gideon paused for a moment and then in his meekest and mildest of tones, said: “There is a curious fact that has just come to light, my lord, which is really why I came. It seems the under-footman who has disappeared from the Fairhaven household was not really an under-footman at all. Or Jim Tolin, for that matter. He is one Jim Rooke and up until a month ago was a clerk at Halesworth Limited.” Gideon’s face was at its blandest, his eyes seemingly sleepy and unfocused, but in reality, he was paying very close attention to Fairhaven’s reaction.
Mark rubbed his hand over his face and gave Naylor a sheepish smile. “I have something to confess, Mr. Naylor.”
“Indeed, my lord?”
“Jim was—or I should say is—one of my employees. He was a bright young man, ambitious for promotion, to whom I offered a business proposition. I asked him to apply for that position in Claudia’s household so that I could keep an eye on her. I was particularly concerned about her relationship with Ashford.”
“And why would you decide to do that, my lord?”
“I have always been very fond of Lady Fairhaven, Mr. Naylor.” Fairhaven’s voice trembled a little and he glanced away as though it were painful to look Naylor in the face and talk about his feelings. “In fact, in the last two years, I realized that I cared about her a great deal. But she was very fond of my late cousin, and I intended to give her more time to recover her spirits before I would even consider approaching her as a possible suitor, much less pressure her. Tony Varden, on the other hand, was in desperate need of her money and had no other way to save his estate. I was afraid for Claudia. I didn’t want to interfere in her life,” continued Fairhaven slowly, “so much as just find out where things were at with Ashford. I hoped I could step in at the crucial point and dissuade her from marrying him.”
“And so you introduced a sort of spy into her household?”
Fairhaven hesitated. “I suppose you might see it like that, although I didn’t. Truly, I was only thinking of Claudia’s future. How could I have known that I should have been worrying about her safety?” he added bleakly.
“And so you received regular reports from this Jim?”
“Yes.”
“And what about the night of Lady Fairhaven’s murder? Did you hear from him then?”
“No. I had been out at several events. It was late and I was tired, so I went directly home. I didn’t hear about Claudia until late the next morning. And by then, Jim was gone.”
“So he didn’t run to you?”
“No. I must confess that I was surprised that he had disappeared. But when I think about it, the answer is obvious.”
; “Oh?” said Gideon, with a trace of irony.
“Of course, Mr. Naylor. Either Ashford threatened him and he is in hiding, or Ashford got rid of him too. I rather think the latter, don’t you, Mr. Naylor, since he has not shown up?”
“It is certainly a possibility we have considered,” admitted Gideon. “But I am still looking for him.” Gideon got up out of his chair. “Indeed, I must be on my way. You will contact me should you hear anything from Jim, my lord?”
“Of course, Naylor, of course,” replied Mark. “But I am afraid something has happened to him or he would have been to see me already.” Fairhaven moved to the door of his office to open it for Gideon, all smiles and affability as he saw him out.
* * * *
Mark watched until Gideon was halfway down the street before returning to his desk. He looked blankly at the letters he had been opening, his mind going around and around the question that had been plaguing him for days. Why had Jim disappeared? Why had he not contacted his employer? And the most terrifying question of all: Had he seen something that night, and was that the reason for his flight?
* * * *
Gideon spent the day wandering the worst streets of St. Giles, seeking out his regular informants and giving them the usual incentives to keep their eyes open for a young man in footman’s livery. After leaving Jim’s description with half a dozen of his regulars, he suddenly realized that a fugitive, no matter how naive, might very well have decided to get rid of such noticeable clothes and headed for Petticoat Lane to question the old-clothesmen.
He hit five stalls before he found the right one. Yes, a young man had sold a suit of livery a few days ago, taking a used suit of clothes in return. Good news. But no, the owner of the stall had no idea where the young man was headed. The to-be-expected bad news.
Lord Ashford's Wager Page 13
