Jane and the Sins of Society

by Sarah Waldock

  Jane gasped.

  “So Ferrant killed him at the ball and had the effrontery to take him home and use Ashall’s coachman to get him back in time to be dancing with people like me?”

  “Yes, he’s a bold villain, and we have no proof at all. The coachman described him as ordinary looking, and said he did not really look at him. The ones waiting up for Ashall appear to be dead, which is to say the butler and the valet. I imagine Ferrant used Ashall’s key to let himself in, and possibly even asked the butler to help carry his master. He killed him, and the valet, and then he set the fire. It isn’t a long jump from a drunken master to one who spills the brandy in the fire and sets fire to the house. I suspect the room was dowsed in brandy, and the casement opened just a little to create a draught. A singularly callous crime.”

  “Indeed, without thought or care for the servants,” said Jane. “Lift that leg slightly so I may wrap a bandage and tie it off.”

  “He didn’t even care if it spread next door,” said Caleb. “Fortunately, a footman with a sensitive nose woke up, and ran for the fire brigade. It drives home the importance of paying the premium, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, well worth ten shillings a year to the Westminster Fire Company,” said Jane. “It was lucky the houses were separate.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Caleb. “Ah, that feels better, Jane-girl. I didn’t enjoy having stitches in, but Lady Wetherby is deft and quick. Help me get back to a civilised position, will you? Thanks.” As Jane helped him roll back, and readjusted his pillows.

  Chapter 24

  “One; we know Ferrant can do his own dirty work if he has to. Two; we can be moderately certain that his confederate is not back from Hertfordshire yet, staying to the last possible minute to try to kill Braxstrode. Three; I’d be surprised if Ferrant ain’t at least a bit rattled by this. He may be capable of doing the dirty work, but he’s always relied on another. This killing was hasty, and to cover up having Ashall blabbing to everyone. I wouldn’t mind betting ....” Caleb paused. “Actually, I don’t want to even think about betting. I suspect that Ferrant actually lost his temper with Ashall for demanding that he pay up, asked him to come out to his coach where he had the rhino available, and killed him the moment he was alone, without thinking about the consequences. He’ll be looking for the newspaper.”

  The door opened and Rohini tripped in.

  “You were wanting the newspaper, Sir Caleb? It is full of your heroism.”

  Caleb groaned.

  “Just what I didn’t want.”

  “My husband assumed that you were there in your official capacity as there were two officers of Bow Street with you,” said Rohini. “He sent the officers on their way, and told the men from the press that far from visiting Ashall, you were visiting us, since your family has connections in India. You did mutter something about your sister.”

  “I did? Sensible of me, and very clever of Sir William.”

  “Well, he was a magistrate out there,” said Rohini.

  “I knew he was a peevy cove,” said Caleb. “A clever man, ma’am.”

  Jane took the paper Rohini offered and read out loud.

  “A tragic fire in the city has caused the unfortunate death of Viscount A – , a well-known man about town. Dead too are feared to be his butler and valet, who have not been seen by the other servants. A daring rescue by Sir C – A – means that the maids who slept on the top floor were saved from the gruesome fate of being burned to death. Fortunately Sir C – was visiting his friend, Sir W – W –, and his wife, who are friends of the family from Sir C –‘s family’s interests in India. We all remember Sir C – ‘s discovery of how emerald smuggling was being effected last year! Sir C – daringly ran over a ladder from Sir W – ‘s property, to help the maids escape, making a daring leap back himself, as the roof fell in beneath him! We understand that Sir C – has been badly wounded in making so late an escape, and remains beneath the roof of Sir W – . We have seen no doctors, however, so remain hopeful.

  We understand that the fire was caused by the heavy drinking of Viscount A – , heir to the Duke of B – , who has recently remarried. We might speculate that the drinking was because the viscount expected to be supplanted as heir within the year. However, his hopes are definitely dashed now due to carelessness with brandy. A friend who preferred not to be named says that he saw the viscount home, and he was damning everyone’s eyes and calling for more brandy. We warn all our readers against the excesses of heavy drinking, not merely for their good health but to avert more tragedies like this.”

  “I’ll say he don’t want to be named,” said Caleb. “If he was too drunk to move his feet, or, as I surmise, dead, he wasn’t damning anyone. Well, we know who the friend is, then. And I’m cramped if I hope to get him.”

  “Two ways of doing this,” said Jane. “Either let him know that you know, and hope he panics; or be entirely baffled, and hope he goes ahead with the attempt on Radcliffe.”

  “I rather think he has to; it’s a matter of honour now, and he can’t duck out of a wager,” said Caleb. “However, I think by pretending ignorance, we have a better chance. Also I don’t think he rattles much, or easily; he lost his temper with Ashall, but I suspect once he had killed him, he planned the rest coolly. You have to be cool to drag out a dead man making jokes about how drunk he is. And he must be as strong as an ox too,” he added, meditatively.

  “I agree,” said Jane. “However, the first thing to do is to write to Simon, and tell him that I have seen you, and that you are not about to die, he’ll get a shock if he reads it in the paper. Jackie will have to take it, and Fowler be without a messenger for a night.”

  Caleb nodded soberly. He would not put it past his adoptive son and friends to borrow a vehicle and horses just to find out the truth.

  Cecily had managed to talk to Fowler before the paper arrived, explaining that one of Caleb’s friends had said that he was not badly hurt; and, Cecily told Fowler, Mama was going to see to him.

  “He won’t dare die with Mrs. Jane looking after him,” said Fowler. This got a watery smile from Cecily.

  Fowler had to answer questions from old Mr. Radcliffe once the paper did come.

  “Not knowing what the paper says, and having only had an incomplete report that my master was hurt in the line of duty, I cannot answer you, sir,” he said.

  Radcliffe thrust the paper to him. Fowler’s normally perfectly controlled eyebrows rose considerably as he read.

  “Gawd, I hope young Simon don’t worry when the papers get to the provinces,” he said. “No, Mrs. Jane, Lady Armitage I should say, will have written to him. You asked me if this was true, and if it’s what my master did, sir, I’d say it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if it’s not only true but underplayed. I had word that he was hurt but not badly, a matter of an old war wound. If it’s the one I’m thinking of, he’ll have bled like a stuck pig if it opened right up, but it ain’t going to trouble him long term nowise, sir.”

  “Good; he has gone to trouble on my behalf and I would hate to hear he was caused trouble through being without you. Are you wishful to rejoin him?”

  “Whether I am or not isn’t material, sir. He asked me to guard you, and unless I get orders contrariwise from him or milady, I’ll carry on guarding you,” said Fowler. “Sir Caleb don’t pike on a job once it’s started, whether he has a ball in him a wound, or not. Not even on his wedding day when a wounded man turns up calling for sanctuary. Looked after the poor devil, he and Mrs. Jane did,” said Fowler.

  “Well, well! Why was he really there?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Radcliffe, and I’m paid not to wonder if nobody tells me it is my business,” said Fowler, somewhat mendaciously, as he always wondered. Ashall was one who was a threat to his uncle, so likely there was some element of dubbing the cully’s mummer, thought Fowler. He had no intention of saying so out loud to a relative stranger, even by employing the polite language of saying it was to shut someone’s mouth.

 
; Mr. Radcliffe looked disappointed. And he could, thought Fowler, stay that way. He was here to guard the old gager’s body, not entertain him.

  Cecily managed to find her way to the house next door to where the fire had been, simply by asking people.

  Caleb and Jane heard the chime of the door, a brief altercation, the butler declaring,

  “Be off with you, you urchin .... Oy!” and the shout of,

  “Papa!”

  “In here!” Caleb called, and Jane went to the door, and neatly moved herself between the small missile that was Cecily and the butler.

  “I’d be obliged if you believed our daughter when she tells you who she is, another time,” said Jane, sweetly.

  “But ... but she’s done up like a street boy!”

  “Hardly,” said Jane. “She is wearing good, hardwearing nankeen breeches and cloth de Nimes for her jacket, as she is wearing her brother’s play clothes. He’s at school, and I have written to him, but hearing about her father this morning without seeing him has plainly upset her more than I realised. For goodness sake, man, shut your mouth, I know it’s too early in the season for catching flies, but I have no desire to look at your tonsils.”

  The butler shut his mouth with a snap.

  Lady Wetherby tripped down the stairs.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” said Jane. “Our daughter has come, she’s worried about her papa; you’ll excuse her borrowing her brother’s clothes, I’m sure, most inappropriate for a young girl to traverse the streets dressed in her own clothes, and the house is at sixes and sevens with no spare servants.”

  “Of course, what a brave little girl! How old is she?”

  “Eleven; a year younger than Simon, who is at school. My step-children, as my two oldest children are Caleb’s step-children, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “It must be nice for them to mingle all together,” said Rohini.

  “We think so,” said Jane. “Come and meet her.” Rohini followed her in. “Lady Wetherby, may I present my daughter, Cecily? Cecily, this is the lady who patched up your papa so well.”

  Cecily flew to Rohini and hugged her; and made a friend on the spot.

  “Goodness, Cissy, leave some of Lady Wetherby’s ribs intact after breaking all of mine!” said Caleb, laughing.

  “She has done no such thing,” said Rohini. “Jane, do you stay, or will you go home?”

  “I would like to go home, for there are the little ones,” said Jane, “But now Caleb is apprised of all I know, and I, of all that he knows, I can leave him, and just come to do his dressing in the morning, and pass any messages that need passing, until he is well enough to get back home.”

  “Another night will see it, if I may impose on you, Lady Wetherby,” said Caleb. “I’m grateful, but there’s nothing like familiar surroundings. And I like to shave myself, too; army habit.”

  “Ram Das said you were averse to his ministrations but were too polite to say so,” said Rohini. “Very well; you shall go home tomorrow if Jane brings you clothes to change into, as well as changing the dressing, and you will need to take out the stitches in eight to ten days, Jane. I am happy to come to do so, but I am sure you are able.”

  “I will call on you if I find myself unequal to it,” said Jane.

  “And I will prepare a jar of turmeric for you,” said Rohini.

  Caleb sent Cecily running to Fowler to tell him that a new man might be expected to come for a job any time now; and told Jane to send Will to watch Ferrant’s house.

  “I’d have liked all the boys on it, but Jackie’s away to Essex, and I want Daniel in the house watching over you all, with Fowler and me away from home,” he said. “If cully even suspects that I know, he won’t have any hesitation in going after you and the children to send me a message.”

  “But Caleb, how foolish that would be. If he kills all that you hold dear, then you would have nothing to lose in just killing him; would he really want a desperate man after him?”

  “You know that, Jane-girl, and I know that. But cully is lamentable cautious of his own skin, and I suspect he believes other people are as well, and so he will believe that in viciously killing a man’s family, that man will do anything to preserve his own skin. Because he would do so himself, not understanding the depth of feeling decent people may feel for each other. I doubt he could even conceive of the idea that if I lost my wife and children that I would no longer want to live, for I am sure he perceives any female as replaceable, and able to bring more children into the world. I have observed that to men who are willing to kill without giving a moment’s thought to it do not see others as of any importance at all.”

  “Well, while he thinks you at death’s door, we are safe,” said Jane. “Dear me, I am tempted, having brought you home, to hire a pair of mutes so people think you are dead. It worked very nicely before, though of course you did not rank mutes then.”

  “It ain’t such a bad idea,” said Caleb. “Only get a couple of Jackie’s mates and trick them out as mutes.”

  Jane nodded.

  “I will send Will to find me some before he goes to watch Ferrant, unless Jackie has made good time and has returned,” she said. “Indeed, I will have them at the door tonight if I might.”

  “Not a half bad idea,” said Caleb. “I’ll ride out of here in a coffin if you will procure me one: Jackie can drill holes in it and afterwards we can either paint it to be Egyptian to go with that mournful decor in the vestibule, or we can put it away safe in case we have to use it again.”

  “Men are such little boys, aren’t they, Mama?” said Cecily.

  “I’m afraid so, my love,” said Jane.

  Simon launched himself into Jane’s arms when she got back to the house.

  “He would come, Mrs. Jane,” said Jackie, apologetically. “He told Mr. Sylvain to stay put.”

  “Pa isn’t Sylvain’s pa,” said Simon, obscurely. “And I know he’s from the Channel Isles not France, but he can be a bit French at times. I like him fine well, but I didn’t want gloomy predictions, I wanted Jackie’s optimism.”

  “Ain’t a lot wot’ll make the capting turn up his toes,” said Jackie.

  “No, but other people don’t know that,” said Jane, crisply. “Will is to go and watch the house of one Hillborough Ferrant, and you, Jackie, when you’ve rested enough, are to procure me a large coffin and drill holes in it strategically, and line it with quilts so the Captain isn’t bounced about like a pea in a frying pan. We will need two more good soldiers decked out as mutes.”

  Jackie nodded.

  “I ain’t as good as Mr. Fowler, but you leave it to me. I know a couple of good Methody soldiers who can do as Friday-faces as you want. It’s acoss they ain’t allowed liquor,” he added. “And I’ve had a pasty off of Mrs. Ketch and a heavy wet, so I’m bowman for anything.”

  “Where’s Ginger?” asked Simon.

  “Cecily is in the clothes we got you for being a grocer’s boy, running messages for Fowler,” said Jane. “He’s waiting to stop a murderer.”

  “I’ll go get changed and catch up with her,” said Simon. “Is the hobby horse which was delivered Pa’s? It’s famous!”

  “It is indeed to your father’s design and no you’re not to play with it before he has a chance to do so,” said Jane, correctly interpreting the implications behind the question. “I hope someone returned Mr. Grey’s Draisine to him.”

  “I could ride it to his house, where is it and where does he live?” asked Simon.

  “You will not; you are not tall enough and you will have an accident. Pester your father about having one your size made if you’re that keen,” said Jane. “However, you may run an errand to Mr. Grey’s house telling him where his Draisine is, if you will permit me to pen it for you while you change. You look far too much the young lordling not to get rolled in the gutter by people like Ginger’s friends.”

  Simon chuckled, and ran upstairs, with scarcely a limp these days now his
short leg had strengthened for always wearing a built up sole.

  By the time he was dressed in similar garb to Cecily’s, Jane had written a polite note to Mr. Grey, thanking him prettily on Caleb’s behalf, and asking him if he would mind collecting his vehicle from the area of Sir William’s house, where it had been put by the Bow Street officers. She hinted that Caleb was too badly injured to move, and that bad news might be forthcoming. Mr. Grey would cheerfully gossip to his circle. Simon might then find Cecily; it would be a pleasant surprise to her, Jane hoped.

  Chapter 25

  Jane was not expecting Mr. Grey and Mr. Montgomery to turn up on her doorstep, both in accord with each other not rivals, and awed by Caleb’s Draisine in the area, and horrified when a pair of mutes arrived.

  “We wanted to give our respects and do what we could,” said Mr. Montgomery, soberly.

  Jane made a fast decision.

  “Gentlemen, you have become good friends,” she said. “My husband is not dead, as we are letting people think, because he wants to preserve his family from danger from the retribution of a dastardly murderer whom we cannot yet prove to be a killer. We are going to fake his death, and the mutes are soldiers lately from his own regiment, who have agreed to the uncomfortable imposture in order to keep the illusion of a house in mourning. However if you would also like to lend your presence to my house as a pair of good strong men, I’d not turn it down.”

  “We’re both useful in a mill, Lady Armitage,” said Mr. Grey. “And I owe you greatly for helping me win the fairest girl in the world.”

  “And I owe you for stopping attempts on my life,” said Mr. Montgomery. “Is that why you are in danger? Because it was this killer?”

  “No, you may rest easy on that score, Mr. Montgomery,” said Jane. “I found out who had made the attempt, and it was all over a misunderstanding. You will have no more trouble.”