Death at the Devil's Tavern

by Deryn Lake

  ‘Yes,’ said John acidly, ‘I was aware of that.’

  ‘I was still there when Roger’s letter arrived saying there had been a fatality. I remained to give comfort to the family and to await the return of my husband.’

  ‘You went with Lady Hodkin to the church in Shadwell where Sir William intended to get married I believe?’

  Maud looked thoroughly startled. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘The Public Office is cognisant of most things,’ the Apothecary answered grandly. He shot her a penetrating stare, wondering whether his idea that her puritanical facade might disguise a sinful interior could by any chance be correct. ‘And did you leave Kirby Hall during that time, Madam? Did you return to town to shop or attend a play?’ he added.

  Maud looked uneasy. ‘Once or twice, yes, though not to visit a playhouse, let me hasten to assure you. I went to London to call on my aged mother, nowadays very deaf and almost totally blind.’

  ‘You did not come to this house to see Sir William?’

  ‘No, indeed I did not.’

  She was too flushed and vehement to be telling the truth, John thought, and considered the fact that even a boring little woman like her might have a lover, probably just as dull and uninteresting as she was. However, with her husband present he was obviously going to get nothing further out of her on that score. So the Apothecary merely looked wise, nodded, and turned to Hugh, thus intercepting a most peculiar glance that Sir William’s third son was giving his wife.

  So he is wondering, too, John speculated, and questioned how many more threads were waiting to be uncovered in the search for Sir William’s murderer.

  ‘Tell me, Sir,’ John asked pleasantly. ‘Were you close to your father?’

  He watched Hugh debating his reply and deciding to come down on the side of truth. ‘To be perfectly honest with you, no,’ he answered hesitatingly. ‘I am a compassionate man, Mr Rawlings, and it fair tore my heart from my body when my mother not only had to endure the anguish of a stroke but also the heartache of knowing that her husband was engaged in an adulterous affair.’

  Maud made a strange sound which John could not interpret.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Hugh went on, ‘she may have been bedridden but she had not lost her wits. I think my father behaved in an atrocious fashion, yet I had to hold my tongue, more’s the pity.’

  ‘Oh? Why was that?’

  ‘Because I worked in the family firm. I depended upon Sir William for my livelihood. It was not an easy situation for someone like myself, used to speaking his mind.’ Hugh smiled ruefully, his spruce brown features relaxing somewhat.

  ‘Very difficult I imagine,’ John answered sympathetically. ‘Tell me, what is it exactly that you do?’

  ‘I am in charge of importing goods from foreign climes. As Maud told you, I have recently been in France, in Burgundy to be precise, seeing to the shipment of some extremely fine wines.’

  ‘How very pleasant. When did you return?’

  Hugh grinned disarmingly. ‘It was damned hard work, let me assure you. Two weeks of extremely busy graft. Anyway, I came back on the seventeenth. We had some goods aboard so our ship joined the queue for the Legal Quays, then I came ashore and went to my father’s office in Wapping. It was there that I first heard the news, told me by Valentine Randolph. I regret that I was unmanly enough to faint.’

  ‘Quite understandable,’ John murmured. He looked Hugh straight in the eye. ‘I believe that under the terms of Sir William’s will you now become head of the entire business.’

  ‘Nominally so, yes. My brothers will be running it with me, however.’

  Wondering just how much interest Roger and Julian would have in work of that kind, the Apothecary merely raised his brows.

  Hugh looked uncomfortable. ‘Why do you ask?’

  John answered the question with another. ‘Were you aware, Sir that your father had made a new will, a will that he never signed? And that in that will the running of the business passed out of family hands? Have you any idea why he should have done that?’

  Hugh looked wretched. ‘No, I know nothing of it, and I have no notion why he should have wanted to take control away from us. Who was going to inherit the firm, tell me that?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t.’

  ‘But I can,’ interrupted Maud, ‘it must be that vile Luke Challon. Always pandering to Sir William’s lustful ways, and just as bad himself. As to why my father-in-law wanted to cut us all out, I know the reason. Because I told him he was steeped in sin and that no good would ever come to him while he consorted with a whore.’

  ‘Strong words,’ said John, his tone bland.

  ‘Not strong enough,’ answered Maud, and flounced from the room.

  Hugh stared after her, his expression anguished. ‘My wife is deeply religious,’ he stated apologetically. ‘My father’s … er … relationship with Amelia Lambourn was as repugnant to her as it was to me.’

  ‘But she told him so.’

  ‘Yes. And so did other members of the family. That is why he was about to disinherit us I imagine.’ Hugh paused. ‘Why didn’t he sign the new will, Mr Rawlings?’

  ‘Because,’ John answered harshly, ‘somebody decided to summon him to his death instead.’

  There was little custom about that afternoon, probably because of some unexpectedly warm sunshine which shone on the flowers in London’s splendid parks, bringing out those members of the beau monde able to face the brilliance without sustaining injury to eyes more used to twilight. Rather wishing he could close the shop and walk to Bow Street, John passed the time by discussing the virtues of various herbs with Nicholas, who seemed very interested in the efficacy of love potions.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ asked John, much amused.

  ‘Because my grandmother always swore that her mother gave one to the Russian who fathered her.’

  ‘Why should she do that? Surely she didn’t want to bear his child?’

  Nicholas’s face creased into a naughty grin that the Apothecary had not been aware he possessed. ‘Perhaps she thought he would marry her and take her back to the snowy wastes.’

  ‘Just to think, if that had happened you might be a sycophant at the court of the Empress Elizabeth Petrovna.’

  ‘I might even be her lover.’

  ‘Nicholas, you are getting out of hand,’ said John firmly. ‘Your fiery ancestry is beginning to show. Where is the timid young man whom first I met?’

  ‘He’s beginning to go away. Do you mind, Mr Rawlings?’

  ‘On the contrary. I’m delighted. Now, as I was saying …’

  But there their discussion of herbs was brought to an abrupt halt as the shop doorbell rang unexpectedly. Pleased to have a customer at last, John left his compounding room and went to stand behind the counter, only to stop short at the sight which greeted him. Juliette Hartfield, looking almost edible in her mourning clothes, had just come in.

  ‘Miss Hartfield!’ he exclaimed with pleasure.

  ‘Mr Rawlings,’ she replied. ‘I heard that you had called round this morning and thought that as I missed you I would come here instead.’

  ‘How very kind. Did you want to consult me professionally, or is this a social visit?’

  ‘A little bit of both. I am not sleeping at all well, dreaming too much about my poor Papa. But that aside, I wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘I’m flattered.’

  Juliette smiled at him, just a little sadly. ‘How are you getting on with the hunt for the killer?’

  ‘We are making slow progress, but steady for all that.’

  ‘Will you catch him?’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ John asked. ‘What makes you think that a man is responsible?’

  His visitor looked uncomfortable. ‘It was just a figure of speech.’

  The Apothecary nodded. ‘It is not easy to equate women with violent crime, I agree. But believe me, Miss Hartfield, they can be just as desperate as men when their passions are aroused. And it
seems to me there is a lot of passion in this case, of one kind or another.’

  Juliette did not answer and John turned to take a bottle of physick from the shelf behind him, the main ingredients of which were valerian roots and wormwood leaves, guaranteed to get anyone off to sleep. In the mirror that ran along the wall behind the shelf he could see his visitor’s gorgeous face reflected, and spinning round he said his next words impulsively, inspired by her charm.

  ‘Miss Hartfield, it seems to me that your family is not in conventional mourning. Am I right?’

  She bridled a little. ‘What do you mean, Sir? I am wearing black.’

  ‘I was referring to the fact that since your father’s death I have seen both you and your brother, to say nothing of Roger, out and about the town.’

  Juliette’s eyes suddenly twinkled. ‘Yes, that is true,’ she said demurely. ‘We consider ourselves enlightened and believe that private grief is what counts, not public display.’

  John took heart. ‘In that case, I wonder whether you might consider accompanying me to the first assembly of the season at Marble Hall? Mr Napthali Hart himself is to act as Master of Ceremonies.’

  Juliette frowned. ‘I am not certain. Do you not think it might appear indecorous?’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, I am involved in the sad affair which you are currently investigating. John Fielding might not approve of our meeting socially.’

  Everything that was impetuous and scampish in the Apothecary bubbled to the surface. He leaned across the counter and took one of Juliette’s hands in his. ‘I’ve no intention of telling him. Have you?’

  ‘No, of course not, but …’

  ‘You feel perhaps you should have a chaperone?’

  She sighed. ‘I’m afraid I would already have one. Julian has booked to go there with …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘His secret love.’

  John’s smile hid a strange leaping of the heart, partly caused by the fact that Juliette was giving him a glance which said she would enjoy going dancing with him, partly because another, hidden, aspect of her twin brother was about to be revealed and might prove interesting.

  ‘We can pretend we don’t recognise them,’ he answered lightly. ‘Everyone is to wear masks.’

  ‘Then I accept your invitation, Sir.’

  ‘In that case I shall collect you at eight o’clock tomorrow evening.’

  Juliette cast him a ravishing look. ‘I shall be waiting, Mr Rawlings.’ She turned to go, then came back. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot my sleeping draught. How much do I owe you?’

  ‘Consider it a token of my great esteem.’

  ‘Oh, I will, I will,’ she said liltingly, and wafted into the street, leaving behind a lingering trace of her perfume.

  ‘Was that flirting?’ asked Nicholas, emerging open-mouthed from the back of the shop.

  ‘Mind your business,’ answered John, and gave him a friendly cuff on the ear to show him that advantage must never be taken.

  It was just as they were about to close for the night that Luke Challon came in out of the dusk, his squarish handsome features perturbed, his hands clenched into fists.

  ‘My dear Sir,’ he began without preamble, ‘whatever must you be thinking? I have been meaning to call on you for days. Surely you have taken it that I have something to hide from you, but that is most certainly not the case. No indeed.’

  Still thinking about Juliette, John gave him a civilised smile. ‘Mr Challon; please do not upset yourself. You are here now and that is all that counts. Pray step into my compounding room where we can be private. I shall get the lad to lock up.’

  ‘You are about to close. I fear I am encroaching on your personal time.’

  ‘Not at all, not at all. Now sit down, do. I shall only be a few moments.’

  Having organised Nicholas into shutting the shop for the night, the Apothecary blew out the candles and lamps that lit the interior, then placed a lantern in each of his windows, partly to light the pavement outside and partly to deter gangs of window breakers. Shug Lane, minor thoroughfare that it was, had only the wretchedest form of street lighting and to illuminate the shop was a safe precaution. Having done this, he went into the back.

  ‘Now, Mr Challon, I can offer you tea, coffee, or some excellent Bordeaux. Which is it to be?’ he asked cheerily.

  ‘The wine if you please.’

  The Apothecary removed his apron, took a bottle and two glasses from a cupboard, put them down on the compounding table, then sat down on a stool opposite his guest, wondering how best to broach the subject of Sir William’s second will. In the event, Luke did it for him.

  ‘I expect by now that you have discovered the name of Sir William’s lawyer.’

  ‘Not only that, I have been to see him.’

  Luke digested this information in silence. ‘Then you will probably be aware that he was due to sign a second will on the night before he was to be married,’ he said, swallowing the contents of his glass rapidly.

  ‘Yes. I also know that Amelia Lambourn, you and Valentine Randolph would have all stood to gain had this taken place.’

  Luke flushed. ‘Yes, Randolph and I were to be left the business. While Amelia was to become her husband’s principal heiress.’

  The Apothecary refilled his visitor’s glass. ‘I take it that Sir William had fallen out with his family over his love affair.’

  Luke nodded. ‘Very much so. They hated the fact that he made her his mistress while he was still married to their mother. And they despised Amelia for being from the lower class.’

  ‘The first reaction is understandable, I suppose. The second is a characteristic of the society in which we live.’ John paused, then went on, ‘What did you think of Sir William’s betrothed?’

  ‘I liked her very much,’ his visitor answered thickly.

  ‘Were you in love with her?’

  ‘How dare you, Sir?’ Luke protested, jumping to his feet.

  ‘Look,’ said John, laying a restraining hand on his arm, ‘we are both young, in fact I doubt whether there is much more than five years between us. You must believe I know only too well what it feels like to desire someone. I am in the throes of such an emotion even now. Mr Challon, if you truly want me to find your employer’s killer, then talk to me as you would one of your friends. I am not here to sit in moral judgement.’

  Luke emptied his third glass. ‘Of course I’m in love with her,’ he said forcefully. ‘Who wouldn’t be? She’s a beautiful little thing and I’ve adored her from the moment I first met her.’

  ‘Does she reciprocate your feelings?’

  ‘No, God damme. She was Sir William’s mistress and besides there’s …’ he stopped abruptly.

  ‘There’s what?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Not nothing, something.’ John took a wild chance. ‘There is somebody else, isn’t there? Somebody other than Sir William. That pretty creature has a lover, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ hissed Luke, then poured himself a glass, emptied it and pounded the table with his fists.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh, come now …’

  Luke raised his head, his eyes blazing. ‘I don’t know, I tell you. If only I did.’

  Feelings were running high and the Apothecary fought to keep control. ‘Calm yourself, Mr Challon, nothing can be achieved by getting perturbed. Love rarely plays fair with any of us.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ said Luke bitterly.

  ‘Tell me one thing, though. How long has Miss Lambourn had this attachment?’

  ‘I’m not certain; quite some considerable time.’

  ‘Surely not as long as she has known Sir William?’

  Luke gave a miserable nod. ‘It could be.’

  ‘Um,’ answered John, considering.

  ‘I’d best be off,’ said his visitor abruptly, making as if to go.

  ‘Help me finish this bottle,’ answe
red the Apothecary. ‘You see, there’s one more thing I have to ask you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Did Miss Lambourn spend the night before her wedding at The Devil’s Tavern? And, if so, did you take her there?’

  Luke gave him a strange glance. ‘Yes, to both questions. Sir William booked a room for her. He wanted his bride to be near the church where they were to wed.’

  ‘And where did he stay? Do you know?’

  ‘No, he kept that location secret, even from me.’ Luke stared into John’s face, his expression utterly dejected. ‘Do you realise, I’ve been through years of hell. Loving Sir William – and I truly did – and being in love with his mistress as well. The number of times I have just wanted to die.’

  The Apothecary sighed. ‘I pity you, my friend. I think the best thing you can do now that Sir William is gone, is to turn your back on the whole sorry business.’

  ‘I could never do that.’

  ‘Not even if Miss Lambourn betrays you and marries her secret love?’

  ‘If she does that,’ answered Luke, his words slurring very slightly, ‘I swear to God I shall be forced to kill them both.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  There could be little doubt that Marble Hall was one of the most attractive spots for entertainment in London. Lying within the shadow of the famous Vaux Hall Pleasure Gardens and sharing their waterway access, it was most pleasantly placed on the banks of the Thames, whereas its celebrated neighbour lay further inland and did not enjoy such a splendid position. The gardens themselves, though small, were beautifully laid out and illuminated by many lamps, some of which hung from the trees. But the crowning glory of the establishment was undoubtedly the Long Room, which faced the river and was used for assemblies and balls throughout the spring and summer. When the warmer months ended, the proprietor, Mr Napthali Hart, undaunted by the changing seasons, occupied the winter with teaching music and dancing at Hart’s Academy in Essex Street, just off The Strand.

  John had been much intrigued by one of Mr Hart’s advertisements in the newspaper which had read, ‘At this Academy grown gentlemen are taught to dance a minuet and country dances in the modern taste, and in a short time. Likewise gentlemen are taught to play on any instrument, the use of the small Sword and Spedroon. At the same place is taught Musick, Fencing, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, High German, Low Dutch, Navigation, or any other part of the Mathematicks. A sprightly youth is wanted as an apprentice.’ Thinking that Mr Hart must indeed be a Jack of all trades and something of a character into the bargain, John had let his mind wander over the interesting future that lay before the apprentice.