The Butcher Of Smithfield: Chaloner's Third Exploit in Restoration London (Thomas Chaloner Book 3)

by Susanna Gregory

  Bulteel nodded eagerly, pleased with his ready acquiescence. ‘I know the Earl is determined not to pay Dorcus Newburne’s pension – he says he would rather spend a night with the King’s mistress, so that should tell you the extent of his resolution. And I know he wants you to prove Muddiman is responsible for Newburne’s death, because then he can pass the burden of the pension to him.’

  Chaloner regarded him in distaste. ‘Really?’

  Bulteel nodded again. ‘So, if you expose Muddiman as the culprit, you will be reinstated. However, if you discover the killer is some pauper, or that Newburne died in the course of his government duties, he will not be so generous.’

  ‘I cannot tell him it was Muddiman if I find evidence to the contrary. I am no lapdog, uncovering “evidence” to orders.’

  Bulteel regarded him appraisingly, then gave his shy smile. ‘I knew you would say that – I am a good judge of men, and I know an honest one when I see him.’

  Chaloner shot him a searching look of his own. ‘I suspect, from your reaction, that you have devised a way to resolve my dilemma.’

  ‘You are astute, and the Earl is a fool not to cultivate your loyalty. What you need is a plan that will please him no matter what you discover, and I have been mulling one over for some time. Newburne was wealthy – he owned a mansion on Old Jewry, one on Thames Street and two in Smithfield.’

  ‘Do you happen to know if he rented rooms in the Rhenish Wine House, too?’

  Bulteel was puzzled. ‘He hired a garret on Ave Maria Lane, but his other places were proper houses which he owned himself.’ He looked wistful. ‘The Thames Street property is the nicest, in my opinion. It is not very big, but it has a lovely view of Baynard Castle.’

  Chaloner rubbed his chin. ‘I do not suppose it is next to Hodgkinson’s business, is it?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Bulteel in distaste. ‘Print-works smell, and he had more genteel neighbours than that. In fact, one was Maylord the musician.’

  ‘Is that so? Maylord abandoned his Thames Street home shortly before his death, perhaps because he heard or saw something that frightened him. I wonder whether it was anything to do with Newburne? I have struggled to find connections between them, but being neighbours would certainly count.’

  ‘I inspected Newburne’s accounts for a government survey once, and a lot of courtiers hired his legal services. Perhaps Maylord was one of them, and their relationship was that of lawyer–client.’

  ‘You do not remember for certain?’

  Bulteel shook his head. ‘I kept notes, though, so I can check for you. However, what really stuck in my mind were the inconsistencies in Newburne’s accounts. He was swindling the government quite openly – not the Lord Chancellor, but other departments.’

  ‘Did you report him?’

  Bulteel winced. ‘I do not possess your moral courage, and Newburne was in high favour at the time. I overlooked them, as I was expected to do. That is where the saying “Arise, Tom Newburne” comes from – success despite ethical shortcomings.’

  ‘Is it, indeed?’ murmured Chaloner. How many more alternative meanings would he be given for the curious phrase?

  ‘But we digress. What I want to tell you is that he owned a box of jewels. He invested his legitimate income with bankers, but could hardly do the same with the profits from his shady business, so he stored those in a little chest.’

  ‘I was told his hoard was a popular folktale, that it has no basis in fact.’

  ‘Then you were told wrong,’ said Bulteel with great conviction. ‘It does exist. I have seen it.’

  Chaloner was not sure whether to believe him. ‘Where?’

  ‘He kept it buried in the cellar of his Old Jewry house. He dug it up in front of me once, when we needed to lend the Earl some ready cash.’

  ‘The Earl owed Newburne money?’ asked Chaloner with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. If there was ever a good motive for murder, then an unsavoury debt was among the best.

  ‘It was repaid in full ages ago,’ said Bulteel, seeing what he was thinking. ‘The Earl did not kill Newburne. However, if you can lay hold of this treasure, you can present it to him and it will serve two purposes: it will pay Dorcus’s pension, regardless of what you learn about her husband’s manner of death; and it will ensure you keep the Earl’s favour.’

  ‘But that means Dorcus’s pension will be paid from her own money – her lawful inheritance.’

  ‘Not so. Newburne earned those jewels by cheating the government, so they are not hers.’

  ‘That is contorted logic. Devious logic, too.’

  ‘The chest belongs to the government,’ insisted Bulteel stubbornly. ‘And I would rather our Earl had it than anyone else, because he may use it to pay his servants – you and me. However, you should present it to him only after you have identified your suspect, to soften the blow. Unless the culprit is Muddiman, of course, in which case you should leave it where it is. Then you will have it in reserve, for when you need to prove your loyalty the next time.’

  ‘And what do you gain from this arrangement?’

  ‘You will tell the Earl that we solved the case together, so we can both claim credit for the victory. Then he will see us as indispensable, and we will be safe until the next crisis comes along.’ Bulteel looked uncomfortable. ‘I know you will be taking all the risks, but I really cannot help you with a burglary, because I would not know what to do. However, it is my information.’

  Chaloner had heard worse offers. ‘How do you know you can trust me?’

  ‘I trust you,’ said Bulteel with surprising conviction. ‘You have had several opportunities to feather your nest from your work, but you never have, despite being in desperate straits. You are honest.’

  ‘I am a spy,’ countered Chaloner. ‘We lie without thinking about it.’

  Bulteel grinned, revealing his bad teeth. ‘And I am a lawyer, so there is little I do not know about deception, either. I am not asking for your hand in marriage here, Heyden – just a temporary alliance. As soon as we are back on the payroll, we can revert to our usual antipathy, if you like. But my wife is expecting our first child soon, and I need regular employment.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Chaloner, holding out his hand.

  Bulteel clasped it. ‘Thank you. You will not regret trusting me, I promise.’

  Chaloner hoped he was right. ‘The chest is buried in Newburne’s cellar?’ he asked, supposing it would be no great trouble to break into the house and take a look. He had done it before, after all.

  ‘There is a single barred window, and the treasure is just below it. He may have covered the spot with an old box or a heap of rags.’ Bulteel stood. ‘Meanwhile, the Lord Chancellor is in the Shield Gallery, watching the river through the window. I will escort you there, if you like.’

  The flooded Thames was an unsettling sight. It was brown and swift, and in it were whole trees, the shattered pieces of wooden buildings, clothing and even a woman’s body, face-down and undulating among the waves. Sand-filled sacks had been placed in front of the palace’s water-gates, but they were a futile measure against such a powerful force, like trying to kill a pig with a pin.

  ‘The tide will turn in an hour,’ said the Earl, watching it from the comfort of the gallery. All the windows had been thrown open, and courtiers jostled for vantage points. The King was among them, and his mistress, Lady Castlemaine, clung to his arm, declaring in a penetrating voice that it would do no harm for some of the capital’s hovels to be washed away, because they were ugly.

  ‘They are people’s homes, my love,’ said the King, although there was no real sting in his words.

  ‘Then this is their chance to build prettier ones,’ she retorted petulantly. ‘I am weary of squalor – it is so tiresome. Lord, I am bored! Will no one play billiards with me?’

  There was an immediate flurry of raised hands, although most were hastily lowered again when the King cast a laconic eye over them. He snapped his fingers for wine, al
though half the Court looked as though it had imbibed far too much already, despite the early hour. Chaloner looked away, thinking it might not be a bad thing if the river also took White Hall and its dissipated occupants when it swept away the slums that so offended Lady Castlemaine’s sensitivities.

  ‘How is the Queen?’ asked Chaloner, standing at the Earl’s side. Although the Lord Chancellor had clawed back some of the power he had lost during his recent spat with the Earl of Bristol, he remained an unpopular man – the other windows were crowded, but the Earl had one all to himself, because no one wanted to be with him.

  Clarendon regarded him sharply. ‘She is better, but certainly not well enough to see you. She was pleased with your reports, as I said, but she can have no need of a spy in White Hall. Your only hope is to please me over this Newburne business. What have you learned?’

  Chaloner shrugged apologetically. ‘The more information I uncover, the more questions it poses. I have uncovered a lot of information about Newburne, but at the same time I seem to know less.’

  Clarendon gave him a wan smile. ‘It sounds like a paradox, but I know what you mean. I feel the same way about my enemies at Court. Dorcus Newburne was here again yesterday, by the way, demanding her pension. Wretched woman! Her husband left her well provided for, so I do not see why she should expect me to impoverish myself to give her more.’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Chaloner.

  He was about to outline what he had reasoned about the music, but the Earl clearly had better things to do than listen to the vague theories of his spy. He started to walk towards one of his few courtly allies, then glared pointedly when Chaloner made no move to leave.

  ‘Is there anything else, Heyden? If not, you had better go and find me some sensible answers, because you only have two more days, and I will dismiss you if you do not tell me what I want to know.’

  Chaloner did not think he would be very impressed with the few facts he had gathered, so decided it was better to say nothing. He bowed and left without another word.

  Maylord’s funeral was not until noon, and the day was still young, so Chaloner decided to visit Dorcus. On his way, he stopped to see Temperance; she was still in bed, but rose when told the identity of her visitor. Maude was already bustling about the kitchen, making some of her poisonous coffee. She offered Chaloner a dish, but he declined. Preacher Hill had once told him Maude’s brew was so potent that her first husband had sipped some and died on the spot. Chaloner had no idea whether the story was true, although he did know that even a few mouthfuls invariably resulted in a rapidly pounding heart and an unpleasant burning in the stomach.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said as Temperance joined him at her kitchen table. He looked around surreptitiously to see if there was anything to eat. ‘I am used to you being up at dawn for chapel, and I never expect you to be in bed this late.’

  ‘Eight o’clock is hardly late,’ objected Temperance with a yawn. ‘And my days of rising at ungodly hours for church were a long time ago. I only go on Sundays now, because I have abandoned the Puritan fancies my parents taught me. And you do have a nasty habit of arriving overly early, Thomas. Come later in future because I seldom retire before four.’

  ‘Four in the morning?’

  ‘Well, I do not mean four in the afternoon.’ She grimaced. ‘The Puritans are wrong to insist on dawn devotions. The King should do something about them.’

  ‘You think they should be suppressed?’ Chaloner tried not to sound shocked.

  ‘Yes, I do. You cannot reason with fanatics, and allowing them to express their bigoted opinions encourages them to shout all the more loudly. It is only a small step from yelling hate to putting it into practice with guns and swords, and outlawing their gatherings will make the country far more safe.’

  Chaloner struggled to conceal his unease. He had never expected to hear such sentiments from a woman whose family had endured a good deal of suffering for its religious beliefs. Yet his dismay at her changing political views was nothing compared to his astonishment when she produced a pipe and began to tamp it with tobacco.

  ‘Christ, Temperance!’ he exclaimed. He supposed he should hold his tongue, but he could not help feeling some responsibility for her well-being. ‘You are full of surprises this morning.’

  She examined the pipe fondly. ‘I have been developing a fancy for it. We are told smoking is for men, but why should they have all the fun? Besides, I do not do it in public, only with friends. Would you care to join me? I have several spares.’

  He shook his head, hoping she might offer him some breakfast instead. She did not, although Maude handed him a pile of mended and cleaned clothes. He offered to return the ones he had borrowed, but the women waved him away.

  ‘You look nice in them,’ said Temperance, puffing contentedly. ‘And you probably need to go to Maylord’s funeral today, so you should dress properly for the occasion. Our boy will deliver these others to your house, so there is no need to take them with you now.’

  ‘They are saying in the coffee houses that the river has burst its banks at Deptford,’ said Maude conversationally, when the spy had lavished a suitable amount of praise on her handiwork.

  ‘Did they read that in Muddiman’s newsletter or The Newes?’ asked Chaloner, wondering how Maude was party to coffee-house chat. Such establishments were supposed to be exclusively for men, although he did not imagine many would have the courage to ask her to leave if she did decide to avail herself of one.

  Maude pulled a disparaging face. ‘All The Newes contained was a lot of rubbish about a dirty prayer-book and the Turks being “up and down” in Vienna. And the Queen is recovered from distemper, but now she is said to have an indisposition, which is probably worse.’

  ‘The note about Sherard Lorinston’s bay mare was interesting, though,’ said Temperance. ‘Someone read his advertisement in the newsbooks, and saw the animal being sold in Limehouse. The good Samaritan has a reward, Lorinston has his mare back, and the thief has nothing. I shall ask him about it when he comes tonight.’

  ‘Ask the thief ?’ queried Chaloner.

  Temperance pulled a face at him. ‘Ask Lorinston. We do not entertain criminals here, Thomas. It is a gentlemen’s club, and we are very selective about our members.’

  ‘I thought the Duke of Buckingham was among your clientele. You cannot be that selective.’

  ‘Now, now,’ tutted Maude. ‘There is no need to malign the duke; he cannot help being a rake.’ She changed the subject in the interests of avoiding a spat, because Temperance was looking irritated. ‘When I was coming back from buying eggs just now, I heard that Smegergill’s will was read in the Inner Temple this morning.’

  ‘Before eight o’clock?’ asked Chaloner. ‘At such an ungodly hour?’

  ‘You are sharp today,’ said Temperance coolly. ‘Besides, wills are read by lawyers, who love ungodly things. Did you once say you studied law at Cambridge, Thomas, and that you were at Lincoln’s Inn with a view to becoming a clerk before Thurloe recruited you to an even more devious occupation?’

  ‘Greeting is the sole beneficiary,’ said Maude before Chaloner could reply. ‘He is said to be astounded, although Smegergill had no family, so obviously he was going to favour a friend.’

  Chaloner thought about the ring and the key he had taken from the old man, and supposed he could now pass them to their rightful owner. It would be good to be rid of the responsibility, although he hoped he would be able to do it without being accused of murder.

  ‘Greeting told me Smegergill kept visiting the costermongery in Smithfield after Maylord died,’ said Temperance. ‘But Greeting is an odd fellow, and I never know when he is telling the truth. I do not suppose he studied law, did he, Thomas?’

  Chaloner held his hands in the air. ‘I surrender! I am sorry if I offended you. Can we call a truce before one of us says something he will later regret?’

  ‘I enquired about Mary Cade for you,’ said Maude, when Temperance inclined her head stiffly bu
t said nothing. ‘Her real name is Annabel Reade, and she is well known around Smithfield.’

  ‘I thought you decided against asking questions when you learned she might be associated with Crisp,’ said Chaloner.

  ‘I just mentioned Mary in passing, and my sister started to talk. There is no harm in listening, is there? Anyway, Annabel Reade went to work for a man called Bridges, but there was a disagreement over silverware. Word is that her beau, Jonas Kirby, went to visit Bridges, and Bridges withdrew the charges the very next day. She had actually been sentenced to hang, so it was not just a case of Bridges saying he was mistaken, either. I heard a lot of his money went into buying that reprieve.’

  ‘Kirby is Mary’s lover?’ asked Chaloner, supposing it explained why he visited her while Leybourn was otherwise engaged, and why he had been the one to steal the money sack.

  ‘So it would seem,’ said Temperance. ‘However I made a few enquiries, too, and the boy who delivers our flour told me her real name is Annie Petwer, and she was Newburne’s whore.’

  Chaloner gazed at her, thoughts reeling. ‘Annie Petwer and Mary Cade are one and the same?’

  Temperance nodded. ‘Her description of Newburne’s performances in the bedchamber gave rise to some vulgar expression about his manhood, apparently.’

  She shot Chaloner a challenging glance, apparently to see if she had shocked him. He did not react, so she and Maude began a debate on which of the three names was the original. Chaloner half-listened, thinking about the implications of Mary’s association with the man whose murder he had been charged to solve. Did that mean the Hectors were responsible for the deadly lozenges? How had Mary managed being Newburne’s mistress as well as Leybourn’s ‘wife’ and Kirby’s beau? Then it occurred to him that Leybourn was busy with his shop and his writing, so she probably had a lot of time on her hands. No wonder she was determined to keep him. Not only did he provide her with a comfortable home and forgive her laziness regarding household chores, but his own unique lifestyle gave her the freedom to do whatever she liked, too.