It was Gideon who broke the silence between them. “As I was saying,” he coolly remarked, “I have a few questions for you to answer.”
“I never said I was the man you are seeking. What was his name?”
His evasion made him Gideon smile. “His name is Menzies, though he also goes by the name of Blackwell.”
Again he could not miss Menzies’s reaction, for his body went still.
He said, “I’m afraid you have stopped the wrong man.”
“If that is the truth, then I shall apologize, of course. But I believe it is not. If you insist on denying it, however, we have only to wait a short time before my servant Tom will be joining us. He’s met you, you know.”
Menzies was entirely unprepared for this last bit of news. He did not even bother to conceal his surprise. “Are you the blackguard who’s taken over Lade’s?” he demanded.
“The very same. And, your recent behaviour to the contrary, I had heard that you wished to meet me.”
Gideon’s tone, along, perhaps, with the fact that he had not fired the weapon, seemed to give Menzies confidence. He squared his shoulders, which, as hunched as they’d been, must have begun to ache.
Arrogance was in his voice again, when he hissed, “And I still look forward to that meeting.”
Gideon involuntarily tightened his grip on the pistol butt, but suppressed the urge to react. “I shall be happy to oblige you on a future date, but for the moment I have a more pressing matter.”
“Such as...?”
“... the murder of Sir Humphrey Cove.”
Menzies greeted this statement with silence. Sensing the moment to push, Gideon was about to question him, when he heard approaching hoof beats. Both men turned their heads in time to see Tom ride over the nearest peak in the road.
He spotted them and checked his horse. Then, recognizing his master, he set Beau towards them at a trot.
In spite of Tom’s poor timing, Gideon was very relieved to see him.
“I see you caught up with Mr. Menzies, sir.”
Gideon ignored the smugness in his groom’s voice. “Tom, I need you to walk my horse. She’s been ridden very hard.”
He had no need to say more. Menzies counted as nothing compared to Tom’s charges.
He took one look at Penny and leapt off his horse. “Just you give her to me, my lord.” He hurriedly took the reins from Gideon’s hands, and examined her legs for any sign of injury. Then, his examination complete, he took the reins to both horses and walked them up and down the narrow road as if he had never taken an interest in this night’s work.
“So. It is ‘my lord,’ is it?”
Until Menzies said this, Gideon had not remarked Tom’s slip.
“Then what Lade believes is true? You are for James?”
Gideon had not risked his favourite horse to discuss his part in the Pretender’s schemes. So far, Menzies had done everything he could to avoid answering his questions. Perhaps, he would be more helpful if he knew that Gideon was an agent of James’s.
“His Majesty has entrusted me with a mission. But that is not my reason for following you. I came to ask, why you left Sir Humphrey’s box on the evening that he was murdered.”
Menzies scoffed. “I never murdered that fool! And I cannot believe that his Majesty would waste his time in worrying who did.”
His callousness did nothing to recommend him to Gideon. With a sharper edge to his voice, he said, “Nevertheless, I believe he would wish to know if one of his followers was murdered by another. I understood Sir Humphrey to be a faithful adherent of the Stuart cause.”
“Faithful, perhaps. But he never did anything for James.”
“He never contributed money?”
Gideon could almost hear Menzies’s scowl. “Never as much as he should. But there is nothing unusual in that. None of you English Jacobites are doing what you should for his Majesty.”
“Still...if he gave money, his loss should account for something. Which makes me wonder why Sir Humphrey was killed, when every gentleman in that box was a Jacobite, except for Lord Hawkhurst, of course.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I have my sources.” Gideon let those words sink in, before he went on, “Colonel Potter lost his commission because someone told the King that his loyalty was not to be trusted. He tried to obtain a post as secretary to Lord Hawkhurst. His motive was to turn the earl to the cause.”
He continued, “Lord Lovett’s part in this is still unclear, though he introduced the Colonel to Hawkhurst’s notice. Somehow, I feel certain that you can tell me what his purpose was.”
“Other than bedding than countess?” Menzies sneered. “I don’t know that he had another.”
Gideon felt a punch of revulsion. This was followed by a spurt of anger so strong that he balled his fists. The strength of his emotions took him aback. He had not believed himself still vulnerable where Isabella was concerned.
He knew that he was no longer in love with her. Nor had he been, since discovering how little he meant to her. Yet, some remnant of his affection for her must remain, for he found himself unwilling to hear insults thrown at her.
Perhaps, he was not yet ready to face how foolish he had been. But, then, with a flash, he knew that he simply felt it was unfair for a man to play seductive games when his motive was not love, no matter how willing his victim might be. And, if that was the basis for his reaction, then he had sufficiently recovered from his disappointment to think of Isabella as a victim, too.
All of this flew through his mind in an instant, so he scarcely paused before continuing. “After he won the lady’s favour,” he said, referring to Lord Lovett, “I presume he intended to use his influence to persuade her and her husband to send money to James?”
“Naturally,” Menzies responded. “So, you can see that neither of those gentleman had a reason to kill Sir Humphrey.”
“I have heard that Sir Humphrey was not always discreet.”
“Discreet! He couldn’t keep a confidence any longer than it takes to sniff a pinch of snuff. But no one would have been idiotic enough to trust him with any secret that was important.”
“You mean that he did not know of Colonel Potter’s and Lord Lovett’s plans?”
“I doubt he did. Lovett used him to become acquainted with Lord Hawkhurst and his lady. But Lovett is no fool. He would never have told Humphrey his reasons. He had only to express the desire to be made known to such a lovely lady, and Humphrey would have been satisfied.”
“And Sir Humphrey would never have tumbled to their real motive?”
“Never in a thousand years. So if you’ve been thinking that one of them killed Sir Humphrey Cove in order to keep him from betraying their plan to Lord Hawkhurst, then you’ve been wasting your time.”
Gideon waited, until his pause was long enough to be noticed, before saying, “Then, that leaves us with you.”
“I did not murder him, I tell you!”
“But you left the box unexpectedly and did not return. And, since he was killed in the next few minutes, your departure obviously seems suspicious.” In a commanding voice, Gideon asked again, “So, why did you leave the box?”
Menzies answered reluctantly, “I saw someone I recognized from Boulogne. He was standing in the doorway to the pit with Walpole. He could be one of Walpole’s spies.”
“And, then...?”
“I left the theatre. What else?”
“Did you see anyone else from Sir Humphrey’s box? And, if you did, what were they doing and who were they with?”
“I tried to avoid them, but I did catch a glimpse of Potter talking to Lady Hawkhurst’s brother.” Menzies paused. “And what about Mayfield?” he demanded. “He was sitting in our box, and I know that he attacked Sir Humphrey at Lord Hawkhurst’s card party. He is no Jacobite, but if anyone should be suspected of killing Sir Humphrey, it is he. He’s the one you should be holding up.”
“I am aware of the evidence against Mayfie
ld. You say you saw him?”
“Yes, and from the look on Colonel Potter’s face, I gathered that his conversation was not of the most riveting variety.”
“Did you see them after they parted?”
“No, but when I passed them, I saw a harlot blow a kiss at Mayfield. She seemed to have captured his attention.”
“Anyone else?”
“Only Lovett. He was standing outside the ladies’ withdrawing room. Since he escorted Lady Hawkhurst out, I assume he was waiting for her to emerge.”
“Is that all?”
Menzies said that it was, so Gideon asked, “How long between the time you saw the whore blow a kiss at Mayfield and your departure?”
“No time at all. I headed straight down the stairs and out the door.”
“So you did not see him go down? And you did not glimpse Sir Humphrey at all?”
Menzies emitted an irritated sigh. “I told you, I was trying to avoid being seen. I was keeping a look out for Walpole’s spy, and the last thing on my mind was that oaf Mayfield or any of Sir Humphrey’s party.
“Now,” he said, “I believe I have answered your queries sufficiently. So, it is your turn to answer mine. Who are you, and why are you wearing a mask.”
“If I could answer that, I should have no reason to wear it.”
Menzies’s frustration was palpable. “How can I be certain that you are not one of Walpole’s men?”
“You can’t. I can give you my word, but I suspect you will consider that unsatisfactory.”
He held the pistol up so Menzies could see it, and peered over his shoulder to see how Penny was coming along.
Tom had stopped walking the horses to rub them both down with fistfuls of dry grass.
Out the corner of his eye, Gideon noticed when Menzies took a step. He turned back around, then gestured with the pistol towards Menzies’s lame horse.
“You’d better see if that horse can be walked into Sevenoaks.”
“I can’t. It’s too dark.”
Gideon was not about to fall for any trick. “Then, you can leave it. But you had better start walking if you want to get to Sevenoaks before dawn.”
Menzies let loose with a spate of oaths, but he went to capture the injured animal. This time, he was more successful.
Gideon watched him run his hands over the horse’s legs and check its hooves.
“He’s picked up a stone,” Menzies said.
Gideon allowed him to dig in his bag for a hook, though he carefully covered him with the pistol. Before too many seconds had passed, he heard the clack of a stone hitting the road and let Menzies put away his tool.
Menzies walked the horse in a circle, and Gideon noted that its limp was gone.
“You may go,” he said. “But if I discover that you lied about Sir Humphrey’s death, be forewarned, for I shall find you.”
“Then, we shall not be meeting any time soon.” Menzies climbed into his saddle and asked, “Shall I carry any message for his Majesty?”
Gideon did not miss the irony in his voice. Menzies offer, though, recalled the happenings of the past eventful week. “You should tell him that his army is in disarray, that its leadership is undecided, and that the government has launched a full scale attack on his adherents.”
He heard Menzies hiss. “If I tell him anything of the sort, he’ll give up hope.”
“As, perhaps, he should,” Gideon said. He spoke with regret, but Menzies did not wish to hear it.
He swung his horse around and rode it straight at Gideon. “If you want a message like that delivered, then you can do it yourself!”
Before the horse could ride him down, Gideon leapt out of its way. He landed on his elbow, holding the pistol safely aloft in case it discharged. Ignoring the resulting pain in his arm, his scrambled to his feet, afraid that Menzies would go after Tom, but the sight that greeted him in the moonlight was the rump of Menzies’s horse as it galloped towards Sevenoaks.
Tom came running to see if he was hurt.
“Do you want me to chase him?” he asked, once he saw that Gideon was all right.
“No. But we should leave right away. I can’t be sure that Menzies won’t report us to the authorities. Is Penny all right?”
“I think so, my lord. But I wouldn’t want to see you ride her too fast.”
“I wouldn’t think of it. But, since we’ve got to walk, we’d best leave now.”
When they were mounted and had turned their horses towards London, Tom asked, “Did you get what you wanted out of him, my lord?”
“I can’t be sure. It wasn’t much.”
“Then, what will you do now?”
“I’ll have to speak with Mrs. Kean.”
* * * *
While Gideon had been waiting for dark, before paying his visit to the Duke of Ormonde, Hester had been sitting with her cousin Dudley in the withdrawing room at Hawkhurst House. The Prince of Wales had invited Isabella and Harrowby to his chamber to play at cards, and since the wagers were sure to be deep and the play to go on for hours, Mrs. Mayfield had insisted on Hester’s staying at home to entertain her cousin. The order had left her dismal and frustrated.
It was not that Hester had any desire to watch the Royal couple and their courtiers play until morning, but she had been forced to listen to Dudley’s complaints all evening. Even if she could have felt sympathy for him, his attitude would have rid her of all wish to be of service.
His mother had selfishly accepted an invitation of her own, leaving Hester to be Dudley’s sole ear. And, in the past two days, Dudley had begun to feel very sorry for himself, indeed.
Whether Sir William had spread the word about Dudley’s attack on Sir Humphrey, or other people’s suspicions had led them to be indiscreet, Dudley was being shunned by the members of the Court. Herr Bernstorff, himself, had paid a visit to Hawkhurst House to tell Harrowby that he should not try the King’s grace by bringing his brother-in-law to Court while a shadow of suspicion hung over his head. And even though a direct cut from his Majesty had thus been avoided, it was clear from the behaviour of the peers that Dudley would be excluded from any invitation sent to the Earl and Countess of Hawkhurst.
“I’ve a good mind to go home,” Dudley said, for the third time that evening. As on the other two occasions, he followed this remark with a huff, which seemed to say that it would serve them all right if he did.
Hester bit back an impatient sigh. She had tried to distract him with a game of piquet, but playing cards for no wager with his spinster cousin was not Dudley’s idea of fun, and he refused to be amused. He seemed oblivious to the fact that Hester was no more entertained by his company than he was by hers.
Hester was reluctant to dignify his comment with a reaction, but she found herself repeating the advice she had given him before. “If you were to leave, you would give the impression of running away. And I know you wouldn’t want that.”
“Then what can I do?” he moaned. “The gossips are growing worse. They act as if I was a monster.”
“You must be patient. Eventually, the real murderer will be caught, and they will realize the error they have made.”
“I don’t know why you say he’ll be caught, when nothing’s being done to find him. I thought you said that we would discover who did it.”
Hester could not truly blame him for this complaint. Although the magistrate had taken statements from everyone present, no testimony had pointed to the killer. There had been no direct witnesses, and without them, even if a motive were found, there would be no way of proving the murderer’s guilt.
The magistrate had tried to eliminate Sir Humphrey’s guests as suspects by requesting their alibis, but Harrowby was the only one of the gentlemen who had been in someone’s company during every minute of the interval. This left the others under doubt, but since Lord Lovett and Colonel Potter had been Sir Humphrey’s friends for years and were known at Court, it was not surprising that the bulk of suspicion had fallen first on Dudley, next on the
missing Mr. Blackwell, and finally on a stranger in the crowd.
Hester could not wonder that the magistrate had given up. It was unlikely that anyone would ever be brought to trial, which meant that Dudley was safe—if forever being thought of as a murderer could be considered safe. No matter how low her opinion of her cousin was, Hester could not be happy to have any member of her family tarred with such a brush. And besides, it would be a great injustice if Sir Humphrey’s murderer went free.
She could not tell Dudley that the St. Mars was helping her investigate. Nor could she share the information he obtained, when Dudley would naturally wonder how she had come by it. But she did have one idea, if she only get Dudley to think, too.
Keeping her eyes on the cards, while dealing another hand, she said, “It would help if someone could testify that he or she saw you downstairs after the interval was over.”
Although she had tried to make her suggestion seem innocent, Dudley’s cheeks still reddened with annoyance.
“I’ve told you. There’s nobody who can do it.”
“Not even one of the women selling oranges? Are you certain you did not stop to speak to one of them? If so, she might be able to remember you.”
“I didn’t—”
But that was as far as Dudley got before the door of the room opened, and Lord Lovett walked in.
He had not been announced, but his visits to Hawkhurst House were so frequent and welcome that the footmen had ceased treating him like a guest.
Hester and Dudley stood to make their obeisances, each with a certain awkwardness. Since the night of Isabella’s card party, Hester had found it difficult to meet this gentleman’s gaze without feeling flustered, while Dudley’s uneasiness stemmed from the way Lord Lovett examined him—as if he searched his face for signs of madness or guilt.
Hester took the role of hostess to fill the awkward moment. “I know how sorry my lord and Isabella will be to have missed you, Lord Lovett, but they were summoned by the Prince.”
“I was aware of their plans this evening, thank you, Mrs. Kean.” His piercing black eyes fixed on hers. “I came to see how you were getting on.”
He shifted his gaze to include her cousin in this statement, but Dudley was so clearly an afterthought that even he could not fail to grasp this fact.
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