Lavender frowned and his jaw tightened. ‘I’m alarmed to discover that April Clare was in the company of her sister on Friday,’ he confessed. ‘And that Mrs Willoughby hasn’t been seen since. I propose that we saddle up and go straight to Wandsworth. If she’s there, then at least she will be able to shed some light on the events of Friday night.’
Lavender grabbed Woods and managed to push him into the doorway of a shop just in time to avoid a spray of muddy water as a fast-moving carriage raced by. There were yells of anger from less fortunate pedestrians who had not been as alert and quick-thinking.
‘This case is becomin’ a real mystery,’ Woods said, as they resumed their steady pace. ‘We’ve got the dead daughter of a baron buried beneath the floorboards of a rotten buildin’ in one of the seediest parts of London – and the body of the pimp who used the same buildin’ for a snoozin’-ken for the Covent Garden Nuns. Both of them are on a slab in our morgue. I still think that the dead gal and the buttock-broker were connected in some way. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lavender admitted. ‘But I doubt they knew each other. My suspicion is that both Miss Clare and Darius Jones were somehow in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘And in the wrong shoes,’ Woods interrupted. ‘Don’t forget those ruddy shoes.’
‘Ah, yes – shoes,’ said Lavender. ‘And boots.’
‘Boots?’
‘Yes. I promised to go to Bushy House and collect Magdalena’s reward from the Duke of Clarence. This may be a fortuitous arrangement. I would welcome the opportunity to question Dorothy Jordan about April Clare. Lady Caroline said that the Duke’s mistress had become the young woman’s patron.’
Woods grinned. ‘That were a clever little trick your Spanish widow pulled on the Sailor Prince and his floozy.’
The sides of Lavender’s mouth twitched in amusement. ‘Once again, Ned, she’s not my Spanish widow. And it may be her last little money-earning ruse,’ he added. ‘She has threatened to take up honest employment now.’
Woods’ greying eyebrows rose. ‘Lord help us!’ he said. ‘She weren’t thinkin’ of becoming a school ma’am, were she? I’d pity any nippers in her schoolroom. I still have bad dreams about how she cuffed that tobyman she helped us capture on the road to Barnby Moor.’
‘I don’t know what she’s planning,’ Lavender said. ‘But I find the thought rather disconcerting. Oh, by the way, please tell Betsy that we will take up her kind invitation to supper for tomorrow night.’
‘She’ll be delighted,’ said Woods.
‘And ask her if she knows of a shoemaker called Kinghorn and Naylor.’
‘I will do.’
Lavender frowned as he was jabbed in the side by a wicker pannier carried by a plump shopper. Ever wary of thieves, he kept his hands over his pockets. His mind returned to their case. ‘It would help us if we knew exactly how April Clare had died. Damn—’ He stopped abruptly in his tracks and pulled out his pocket watch.
‘What’s the matter?’ Woods asked.
‘Sir Richard Allison said he would have completed the autopsy by noon. It is already half past midday. I suspect we may have missed him. We had better return immediately to Bow Street before we go to Wandsworth, in case he’s still there.’
‘Fair enough.’ Woods good-natured face darkened. ‘Although I doubt that cocky little sawbones would wait around for us.’
Woods was right. The Bow Street clerks informed them that Sir Richard had finished his autopsy several hours earlier and had expressed great displeasure that Detective Lavender had failed to turn up for the results. He had left instructions for Lavender to visit him at Guy’s Hospital the next day.
‘He could have just left a report on your desk,’ Woods said. ‘Does the fellah not respect the fact that we also have a job to do?’
Lavender sighed. It was an inconvenient and an unnecessary delay but his priority was to continue straight to Wandsworth. He was very concerned about the safety of Mrs Harriet Willoughby. ‘Saddle us a couple of horses, Ned. I’ll just report to Magistrate Read before we set off.’
‘By the way, sir,’ the clerk added as Lavender passed. ‘There were a foreign woman looking for you earlier.’
‘A foreign woman?’ Magdalena?
‘Yes, quite a looker she is,’ the clerk said. ‘And charming. She’s upstairs now with Magistrate Read.’
Magdalena is with Read?
Lavender took the stairs up to the magistrate’s office two at a time. He heard the silvery peal of Magdalena’s laughter as he pushed open the door. She was seated elegantly in the old chair opposite Read’s desk, smiling and gesticulating elegantly as she elaborated on a story. Teresa sat at the back of the room. He smiled at her as he strode across the floorboards. On the wall above Read were two soot-blackened oil paintings of the Fielding brothers. Sir Henry and Sir John glowered down from their heavy frames. Was it Lavender’s imagination or were the founders of the Bow Street Runners scowling even more than normal at the intrusion of the two foreign women into that hallowed office?
James Read was clearly enraptured with Magdalena. Pink spots glowed on his usually pallid cheeks and he didn’t take his eyes from his visitor in order to acknowledge his principal officer. Lavender bit back a smile.
‘Ah, Lavender!’ said Read, eventually. ‘Glad you can join us.’ He sounded anything but glad, Lavender realised. In fact, Read looked annoyed at the disturbance. ‘Doña Magdalena has presented me with an interesting proposition that I’m to place before our colleagues at the Home Department.’
‘Really?’ Lavender said as he took the seat next to Magdalena.
‘Yes.’ He heard the excitement in Magdalena’s voice. ‘I have offered my services to teach Spanish to your operatives who go to work in my native country. You have told me yourself that you have sometimes been sent to Spain on police business and I know that someone has taught you excellent Spanish. I hope that the Home Department may have a use for my skills. I thought that Magistrate Read would know about this.’
Lavender smiled. She had chosen wisely. Although nominally only the magistrate at Bow Street, James Read had a finger on the pulse of most Whitehall departments and the language school was one of them. Lavender remembered the hours he had spent in a cramped, dusty, airless room in the old palace battling with Iberian verbs and grammar. His teacher, Professor Quincy, had been an old, wizened fellow with a moth-eaten wig.
‘I have explained to Doña Magdalena that we may not have a vacancy,’ Read said cautiously.
‘I’m sure you will do your best to help me, Magistrate,’ Magdalena said, as she rose gracefully to her feet. The two men also stood. ‘I will leave you now as I’m sure that Detective Lavender has business to conduct with you.’ She gave both men a beautiful smile and held out her hand. Read pressed it to his lips.
‘It has been a pleasure to meet you, Doña Magdalena,’ he said.
‘Likewise, Magistrate Read,’ she replied.
‘I will escort you out,’ Lavender said. ‘There are some drunkards downstairs in the hallway who maybe a nuisance.’
‘I trust you’re not referring to our clerks?’ Read said jocularly, and then bowed his head once more over his paperwork.
Lavender escorted the women down the stairs. This new development had caught him unawares. Magdalena obviously didn’t let the grass grow beneath her feet when a notion lodged in her mind.
Magdalena stopped halfway down the stairs. Sir Lawrence Forsyth, the duke’s aide, blocked the way. He bowed his head. ‘We meet again, Doña Magdalena,’ he said. ‘How delightful, although I’m surprised to find a lady of your breeding in this den of iniquity.’
Magdalena flashed him a confused glance; she didn’t remember Forsyth from the night before. It wasn’t surprising. Forsyth was the kind of man who would always disappear into the wall hangings of a room.
‘Good morning, Detective.’
Lavender nodded curtly at him. ‘Doña Magdalena, may I present Sir Law
rence Forsyth, aide to the Duke of Clarence.’
‘Ahh.’ Realisation dawned on Magdalena’s face. ‘You were at the Sans Pareil last night,’ she said. ‘Did you enjoy the show?’
Forsyth smirked. ‘Which one, madam? The one on the stage or the more dramatic performance you gave in the foyer?’
Lavender felt his hackles rise but Magdalena took it as a compliment. She smiled. ‘I was glad to be of assistance to the duke.’
‘Quite so,’ said Forsyth. ‘I take it that your injured knee has fully recovered from the incident? The silk-snatcher fell over your leg with some force.’
‘Yes, thank you. My knee has quite recovered.’
‘Well, if you will excuse me,’ Forsyth said, ‘I have business with Magistrate Read.’ He stood to one side of the stairwell and let the women and Lavender pass. ‘Lavender, if you care to call at Bushy House later today, Mrs Jordan has passed on to me a reward for Doña Magdalena.’
Lavender nodded and continued down the stairs after the women. He was annoyed by Forsyth’s manner and irritated by the fact that he would now have to wait until Forsyth had finished his business with Read before he could have a few minutes of his own with the magistrate. He was desperate to travel on to Wandsworth. But Magdalena’s excitement as he flagged down a cab soon brought a smile to his face. ‘See Stephen,’ she said, her eyes gleaming. ‘I too have the skills to become an independent woman.’
Whatever Forsyth’s business with James Read, it didn’t take long to conclude, and Lavender was able to gain an audience with the magistrate within five minutes. However, a few moments inside Read’s office were enough to reveal that Read wasn’t in a good mood. Nor was Lavender’s ongoing case about the dead actress now his main concern. Read wanted to talk about Magdalena. He fixed Lavender with a quizzical stare and bombarded him with questions.
‘Is this the woman you met when you went up to Northumberland to look for that missing heiress last year? Wasn’t she involved when your coach was attacked by highwaymen? Didn’t her husband die at Talavera?’
‘Yes, to everything,’ Lavender replied. ‘Doña Magdalena was instrumental in helping Constable Woods and I overcome that band of tobymen.’ He didn’t mention that she had also saved his life in the ensuing gun battle.
‘She’s also the one who fled Spain after she shot dead several of Joseph Napoleon’s officers, isn’t she?’ Read’s voice rose as he delivered the accusation. Lavender sensed his antipathy towards Magdalena and wondered what had brought about the change in his attitude. She seemed to have him eating out of her hand only a few minutes ago.
‘Allegedly. I’ve never been told the details of that incident.’
‘Did you put her up to this?’ Read asked suddenly. ‘Is this “Spanish teaching” your idea?’
‘No. She has come up with this little scheme by herself.’
‘Well, I don’t know what the Home Department will think about a woman teaching Spanish to our foreign operatives. It is a most irregular suggestion and bound to raise a few eyebrows. Do you intend to marry her?’
Lavender glanced up sharply and saw that Read was watching him for a reaction. ‘Doña Magdalena is a good friend of mine,’ he said. ‘She’s not in a position to remarry at the moment and is still grieving for her late husband. But she does need an income; everything she owns is currently in the hands of the French and she has a child to support. The world is changing, sir. Last night I met three different but intelligent women at the theatre. All of whom work to support themselves – and Dorothy Jordan keeps a prince and ten children at Bushy House.’
Magistrate Read shrugged. ‘Dorothy Jordan is a strumpet; respectable women don’t work for a living. What Doña Magdalena suggests would still be an irregular arrangement. And you haven’t answered my question.’
Lavender remained silent. He had no intention of answering it.
Read threw up his hands in frustration and sighed. ‘Look Stephen, I’m just a simple man of the law and I know little to nothing about women, or the shifting mores of society – as Mrs Read will confirm. In fact, I tend to leave matters of that nature to Mrs Read’s discretion; I find her guidance in such matters invaluable.’
‘I have no doubt that Magdalena’s language skills will be a great asset to the British government,’ Lavender replied. ‘She’s very intelligent, has an excellent ear for languages – and sharp eyes as well.’
‘On top of this she’s a Catholic.’ Read frowned.
‘Oddly enough, the best speakers of the Spanish language tend be Catholics.’ Lavender could barely keep the frustration out of his voice.
‘Touché,’ said Read. ‘You have me there, Stephen. But perhaps championing this woman is something you should think about more carefully. Prejudice against Catholics is rife in England at every level, from the street hawkers down in Covent Garden to the politicians on the benches of Parliament.’
‘Yes,’ snapped Lavender. ‘Yet the Prince Regent of our country married a Catholic.’
‘Not officially.’ Read narrowed his eyes and frowned. ‘You would be well advised not to mention that in public. Prince George could never present Mrs FitzHerbert to the country as his wife.’
‘So he bigamously married Princess Caroline instead?’
Read’s frown deepened. ‘Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, Lavender? You know damned well that his marriage to Mrs FitzHerbert was banned under the Royal Marriages’ Act.’ His voice hardened. ‘You also know that there is a world of difference between how a Hanoverian prince can behave and how you yourself need to conduct your life. Your association with this woman, charming though she is, may do irreparable damage to your career.’
Lavender froze. Was Read threatening him? ‘As a principal officer at Bow Street I’d assumed that I had reached the pinnacle of my career.’ The icy tone in his own voice matched Read’s.
‘Yes, but such an association, no matter how platonic, gives rise to gossip and speculation. You may find yourself sidelined by various clients and barred from carrying out some investigations.’
Realisation dawned on Lavender with a flash. ‘This has come from that weasel, Forsyth, hasn’t it?’ Lavender snapped. ‘He’s made a trip up to town especially to tell you about the theatre last night and let you know that one of your officers is escorting a Catholic widow about town.’
‘He felt it was his duty.’
For a moment Read couldn’t look him in the eye. Lavender was seething. He wanted to chase after the devious Forsyth and wipe the self-righteous smile off his face. How dare that ridiculous man try to stir up trouble for him and Magdalena? Lavender fought back his anger and tried to bring the conversation back to something less personal. He needed to diffuse the tension in the room created by that dandyprat, Forsyth.
‘Does Professor Quincy still teach Spanish for the Home Department?’
Read eyed him suspiciously. ‘Yes, although they tend to use a room in the language school on Hart Street these days.’
‘How old is Quincy now?’
Read narrowed his eyes and frowned. ‘I can see where your thoughts are going. Quincy’s health has been a cause for concern for some time.’
‘Look, sir,’ Lavender said with as much sincerity as he could muster. ‘I know that you’re concerned for my happiness.’ This was a lie. He knew damned well that Read’s overriding concern was for the reputation of Bow Street Magistrate’s Court. ‘But whom I choose to associate with in my private life is my business and I will deal with any consequences of my friendship with Doña Magdalena, as and when they arise. But this doesn’t affect the fact that Doña Magdalena’s skills – and her discretion – could be invaluable to the Home Department. If you, and they, can’t appreciate this fact and overlook her religion, then you’re not making decisions in the best interests of the country. Besides which, she takes her maid with her everywhere as a chaperone so there will be no impropriety.’
Suddenly Read grinned. ‘She takes that little maid everywhere? How unfortuna
te for you, Stephen!’ He laughed. ‘That must make the courting a little awkward, eh? There’s nothing like a little dueña glaring at you from the corner to dampen your ardour while you’re trying to enjoy a bit of relish.’
Lavender shrugged as the other man cackled. He was just grateful that the tension between them had lifted.
Another thought seemed to suddenly strike James Read. ‘She’s very observant, you said? And discreet?’
‘Yes.’
‘And her loyalty to the British Crown is without dispute?’
‘Nobody hates the French more than Doña Magdalena and she is makes every effort to fit into English society as best she can. She’s well aware that England will be her home for some time and is grateful for the sanctuary she has found here. Her son is at an English school.’
‘Mmm. Well, we’ll see what the Home Department thinks. We may just have a use for Señora Morales after all.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
But Read wouldn’t be drawn into divulging any further details. ‘Tell me, how are you progressing with this case of the dead actress? Oh, by the way, the news-sheets have heard about the story. I had a reporter here earlier, trying to get information about the case. I didn’t tell him anything except the basic facts but I suspect that he will probably elaborate on them. If you still have any family to notify about the girl’s death, I recommend that you do it before they sit down and read the grisly version over tomorrow’s boiled eggs and breakfast kippers.’
Chapter Eleven
Lavender was relieved to hear from the housemaid who answered the door at Mrs Willoughby’s home in Wandsworth that April Clare’s sister wasn’t only alive but also in good health. The girl told them that Mrs Willoughby was taking tea in the parlour.
Both he and Woods froze with shock when the maid showed them into the room.
‘Gawd’s teeth!’ Woods exclaimed. The blood drained from his face. ‘It’s a ghost! A damned spirit!’
April Clare’s sister sat in front of the fireplace, glanced up and frowned at their whispering. Harriet Willoughby was an animated version of the corpse they had left on a slab back at Bow Street. The two women were identical in every way, from their thick, glossy raven hair and creamy complexions down to their curvaceous figures. Lavender understood Woods’ initial superstitious reaction and shared his shock. It was as if the dead girl had been reincarnated and was now sat calmly in this neat little parlour in suburban London.
The Sans Pareil Mystery (The Detective Lavender Mysteries Book 2) Page 9
