Peter told him about his visit to the Home Office and how, much to his disappointment, he came away feeling that Sidmouth was getting reports of dissident activity sent directly to him so that any signs of rebellion could be choked off before they’d even begun.
‘What else are you going to do while you’re here?’ he asked.
‘In spite of the state he’ll be in after a post-mortem, I’d like to see my father and attend the inquest. Before that, a talk with your brother, Paul, is essential. Until I know everything that happened that night, I won’t fully understand how he lost his life.’
‘I have vivid memories of the occasion,’ said Paul, ‘and I might be able to help you in another way.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘If you have a petition to present, how do you plan to get access to the Prince Regent? Those around him still believe that he was the real target for the assassin. As a result, they’ll have tightened the protective cordon around him. At present, he’s being kept safe in Brighton Pavilion.’
‘I’d assumed that he’d be in London.’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘As for actually meeting His Royal Highness, I’m not quite sure how to go about it. I thought of seeking help from the Archbishop of Canterbury. I know that he resides at Lambeth Palace.’
Both Paul and Peter were struck by his innocence with regard to the political and ecclesiastical structures of the capital. An obscure clergyman from Nottingham stood no chance of getting close to the archbishop, still less of having an audience with the Prince Regent. The fact that he’d be delivering a document setting out demands for radical reform made it even less likely that he’d get sympathy from either source.
‘There is a more unorthodox way of going about it,’ suggested Peter as an idea began to form. ‘By chance, Paul may be going to Brighton Pavilion very soon in order to escort Miss Hannah Granville, a famous actress, whom the Prince Regent has taken an interest in ever since he saw her onstage as Lady Macbeth. I don’t think that he could smuggle you into the royal presence, but he might at least be able to pass on your petition.’
‘Would you consider doing so, Paul?’
‘It’s worth a try,’ replied the other.
‘Really,’ said David, ‘you and your brother lead extraordinary lives. Peter is able to walk whenever you wish into the Home Office and Paul, I now discover, may actually get to meet the Prince Regent.’
‘It’s a happy coincidence, that’s all,’ said Peter.
He was careful not to mention his brother’s relationship with Hannah. Tolerant as he was in many ways, David Mellanby would hardly approve of two people living together before wedlock. It was safer to let him believe that Paul’s friendship with Hannah was confined to his work as her bodyguard.
‘Where are you intending to stay?’ asked Peter.
‘Well, I was going to join my brother at the Clarendon Hotel.’
‘Do you really want to be under the same roof as him?’
‘To be quite candid,’ said David, ‘I don’t. I’m rather dreading it.’
‘Then why not stay in London as our guest?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t impose on you at such short notice.’
‘Charlotte and I would be happy to have you.’
‘That’s extremely kind of you, Mr Skillen, especially as my family was singularly inhospitable towards you.’
‘You’ll be welcomed with open arms.’
‘Then I accept your invitation with the utmost thanks. Edmund and I are not as close as you and your brother clearly are. Besides, if I stay at the hotel, I’d have to look at the granite face of Mr Oxley over every meal.’
Peter grinned. ‘That would be a deterrent, I grant you.’
‘I wonder if I might ask you some questions now, Paul.’
‘Before you do that,’ said Paul, ‘I need to give you a warning. The man who killed your father is still at liberty. For reasons I can’t go into, we’ve established that he was responsible for two or even three other deaths. His murderous spree may not have ended there. It behoves you – and your brother – to keep your wits about you. Having assassinated the head of your family, he may conceivably have orders to kill other members of it.’
‘Thank you for telling me,’ said David with a slight shudder.
Alone in his room, the assassin was bewildered. Having gone to the trouble of breaking into the house of one of his victims, all that he’d found was a name that meant nothing whatsoever to him. The person above all others he sought was as far out of reach as ever and so was the additional money he’d been promised for his work. He was desperate to know the truth and to do so quickly. Time was against him. He was the target of a manhunt now. He needed to commit one more murder before he disappeared.
CHAPTER TWENTY
After explaining to David Mellanby precisely what happened on the night of Sir Roger’s murder, Paul Skillen decided to ride back to his house. He wished to see how Hannah was coping with their guest. On the previous day, he’d come home to find the two of them singing together while Hannah played the piano. Such a harmonious welcome couldn’t be relied upon. He knew that Dorothea Glenn was shuttling between hope and despair all the time, praying that the man stabbed in the alleyway was not Orsino Price, then realising that the victim must have been him and that he’d gone to his grave after deluding her with empty promises. He hoped that she hadn’t lapsed back into desolation. In the event, Paul arrived to find Hannah alone in the drawing room. As soon as he entered, she leapt up and flung her arms around him.
‘Thank goodness!’ she exclaimed.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just wish you could have been here to protect me.’
He was alarmed. ‘Has someone threatened you?’
‘It certainly felt like a threat,’ said Hannah. ‘I was reading alone in here when I had a visitor. It was a messenger sent from Brighton Palace with another invitation from the Prince Regent. This one was different.’
‘In what way?’ he asked.
‘The messenger had to take my reply back to Brighton. He more or less stood over me while I wrote it.’
‘That’s intolerable.’
‘Don’t take me literally, Paul. I made him wait outside while I agonised over what I was going to say.’
‘I thought we’d agreed that we’d go to Brighton Pavilion together?’
‘My hand was shaking so much that I couldn’t trust it to write properly.’
‘I’m not surprised, Hannah. You were being bullied.’
‘That’s why I needed you here to shield me.’
‘What did the Prince Regent’s invitation actually say?’
‘I’ll show you.’
Hannah picked up the letter from the side table and handed it to him. Paul read it with an amalgam of interest and annoyance. The hand was flowery, the stationery perfumed and the sentiments expressed made him snort with repugnance.
‘He doesn’t leave much to the imagination, does he?’
‘That’s just his way of expressing his admiration.’
‘This is not an invitation,’ said Paul, ‘it’s a demand couched in colourful language. If I’d been here, I’d have urged you to refuse to go anywhere near him.’
‘One can’t spurn royalty, Paul.’
‘I can – without any effort at all.’
‘I’m afraid that I’d be made to pay.’
‘They stopped exiling people to desert islands years ago, Hannah. The simple fact is that you were coerced and that’s not gentlemanly, to say the very least.’
‘Hold me tight.’
He hugged her close for minutes, then eased her onto the sofa, sitting beside her in the process. Hannah was no longer shivering. His return had soothed her.
‘Where is Dorothea?’ he asked.
‘She’s having a rest.’
‘How is she?’
‘Well, she’s been remarkably calm today. I gave her a singing lesson and showed her the practice routine
I go through when I’m rehearsing any songs I have in a play. Dorothea is a keen pupil.’
‘What did she think of your invitation?’
‘She was enthralled by it. When I let her hold it, she couldn’t believe that she had something of royal significance in her hands. Dorothea said that I ought to frame it and hang it on the wall.’
‘If you do,’ he said, ‘I’ll smash the glass and burn the letter.’
‘There’s no need to be quite so touchy about it, Paul.’
‘How else am I to react when the Prince Regent takes advantage of his privileged position to woo the woman I love?’
‘I’ve had far more explicit offers in the past and you’ve laughed at them.’
‘They didn’t have the force of royalty behind them.’ His anger suddenly vanished to be replaced by a broad smile. ‘I may have just the answer.’
‘What is it?’
‘Something has just fallen into our laps, Hannah.’
He told her about the unexpected arrival of David Mellanby and how Peter had offered him hospitality. Sir Roger’s younger son, he explained, had been given a petition for the Prince Regent but was uncertain how to deliver it.
‘Peter wondered if you could do it,’ said Paul.
‘What sort of petition is it?’
‘It’s one that lists the grievances of the lower classes in Nottinghamshire. It’s replaced the earlier petition and points out that Sir Roger Mellanby was murdered before he could present it. In essence, it’s a plea for intervention, Hannah. There’s a foolish idea abroad that the Prince Regent is somehow above the political fray and has the power to impose his will on Parliament whenever he chooses.’
‘Does that mean he’d take any notice of this new petition?’
‘No, it doesn’t. He’d probably fling it straight back at you.’
‘Then why are you advising me to give it to him?’
‘Because it will engineer our escape,’ said Paul, mischievously. ‘You’ll have accepted his invitation yet made yourself thoroughly unwelcome by thrusting the petition at him. With a bit of luck and a following wind, we’ll be in and out of Brighton Pavilion in less than ten minutes.’
David Mellanby felt that his family obligation came first. Before he was ready to stay in with Peter and Charlotte, therefore, he thought he should speak to his brother and went off in a cab. Peter arranged to pick him up from the Clarendon Hotel later on. Left alone with his wife, he took another look at her sketch of Harry Scattergood. It was very lifelike.
‘You’ve sent Paul off on another search, my love,’ he said. ‘Now that he realises whom he saw outside the theatre, my brother is convinced that Harry is somehow involved in this case. As soon as he’s been home to see that everything is well, Paul is going to dedicate himself to finding this man.’ He studied Scattergood’s face. ‘It won’t be easy. Harry is as cunning as a fox.’
‘Paul has caught a lot of foxes in his time.’
‘I know. He loves the chase.’
Gully Ackford sauntered in, holding a letter.
‘This has just been delivered by hand,’ he said. ‘It’s addressed to “Mr Skillen” but it doesn’t say which one.’
‘Well, Paul’s not here to read it,’ said Peter, ‘so I’ll do so.’ He took the letter and opened it. ‘It’s from Mrs Denley.’
‘Then it was intended for Paul’s eyes,’ said Charlotte.
‘They’re both firmly fixed on the search for Harry Scattergood. There’s a note of urgency in Mrs Denley’s appeal. I don’t think she can wait until Paul is free to attend to her. I’ll go in his stead.’
‘Tell her that you are Paul,’ joked Ackford. ‘She won’t know the difference.’
‘Mrs Denley might not but I will and I’m not going to deceive her. A call for help like this must be answered promptly.’
‘What does she say?’ asked Charlotte.
‘See for yourself.’
Peter handed her the letter and she read it. She thrust it back at him.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘There’s a whiff of desperation here. Something has really upset Mrs Denley. Go to her, Peter.’
Oswald Ferriday was walking down a corridor in the House of Commons when he saw Sir Marcus Brough strolling towards him. They exchanged greetings and stopped for a friendly chat.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here today,’ said Sir Marcus.
‘This is my bolt-hole,’ explained the other. ‘If I stay at home, I’m bearded by one or other of the Skillen brothers.’
‘Don’t bank on being safe here, Oswald. I was accosted by Paul Skillen as I left the chamber yesterday. He’s infernally persistent.’
‘So is his brother.’
‘Each is as bad as the other.’
‘Neither of them ever met the Radical Dandy,’ said Ferriday, ‘yet they’re conducting an investigation into his death as if they were close relatives of his.’
‘How right you are, Oswald. Talking of relatives …’
‘Yes?’
‘Sir Roger has finally gone – thank heaven – but there’s a rumour that he may be replaced by someone else from the Mellanby family.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
‘Don’t worry. From what I hear, Edmund, his elder son, is cut from a very different cloth. There’ll be no more blazing oratory about the need for reform.’
‘That’s a relief.’
‘He’s a much more amenable and, I fancy, a more malleable human being. My hope is that he won’t pose anything like the threat that his father did.’
‘As usual, you’re well informed, Sir Marcus.’
‘Intelligence somehow drifts into my ear.’
‘How sound is it?’
‘Oh, I can guarantee its authenticity, Oswald. The Radical Dandy will soon become a distant memory.’
‘I can’t wait for that to happen,’ said Ferriday. ‘His ferocious personal attack on me with regard to the Corn Laws went well beyond acceptable limits. It was vicious. I tell you this in confidence,’ he went on, lowering his voice. ‘If someone else hadn’t killed him, I’d have been tempted to do it myself.’
‘A number of us felt the same way,’ said Sir Marcus, smugly.
‘Does anyone know who shot him?’
‘I fear not and that’s a great pity.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I’d like to have shaken the fellow’s hand and told him what a great service he’s done to his country. The rebellion that’s been rumbling away far too long has now been crushed because the only man who could have led it – Mellanby – is no longer alive to do so.’
Ferriday smirked. ‘Goodbye and good riddance to him!’
Edmund Mellanby was less than pleased when his brother walked into the hotel. He was torn between surprise and antagonism.
‘What the devil are you doing here, David?’ he demanded.
‘I’ve as much right as you to be in London,’ said the other, resolutely. ‘He was my father as well, you know. I felt that my place was here.’
‘You’ll only be in the way.’
‘I wanted to be present at the inquest.’
‘I could have told you exactly what happened.’
‘You don’t understand, do you, Edmund? I don’t want to hear your version of events. I mean to experience them for myself. Is there any law against my doing so?’
‘It’s … damned inconvenient, that’s all.’
They adjourned to the hotel lobby and sat down. While he hadn’t expected a welcome, David was slightly taken aback by his brother’s truculence. Accustomed to being ignored by Edmund, he was now being glared at as if he’d committed some heinous crime.
‘Besides,’ resumed David, ‘I had another reason to be here. I’ve been entrusted with the task of presenting a petition to the Prince Regent.’ Edmund gave a hollow laugh. ‘It’s a version of the earlier one and it explains that Father was supposed to present it. Given the fact that you will embark on a political career, it
should have fallen to you to hand it over, but Seth Hooper and the others felt that they couldn’t trust you to do so.’
‘They were quite right in that assumption,’ said Edmund, simmering with anger. ‘It’s a document to which I could never subscribe. Given the opportunity, I’d have torn it to bits.’
‘That’s no way to behave towards the people of Nottingham.’
‘Don’t you dare criticise me, David.’
‘I speak as I find and I won’t be browbeaten.’
‘Unlike you, I don’t believe in Father’s radical ideals. They were wild, irresponsible and dangerous. Now let’s stop bickering like this,’ said Edmund, trying to contain his ire, ‘and force ourselves to behave like brothers. First things first – why don’t you go and see if the hotel has a room available for you?’
‘It won’t be needed.’
‘Why not?’
‘I already have accommodation.’
‘But you said you’ve only just arrived here.’
‘I called on a friend before I came to the hotel,’ said David, ‘and he was kind enough to invite me to stay at his home.’
Edmund was roused. ‘You went to him before you came here?’
‘Yes, I knew that he’d give me the welcome that you couldn’t.’
‘And who is this welcoming friend?’
‘Mr Peter Skillen.’
‘You’d prefer his company over mine?’ said Edmund. ‘That’s so insulting. You know how much I loathe the man.’
‘Well, I admire him, and I’ll be glad to stay at his house.’
‘He’s an interfering busybody.’
‘Peter is a man who’s prepared to go to any lengths to solve the murder of our father. Isn’t that what we both want, Edmund? It’s more than either of us can do. Peter Skillen has the courage to carry on the search even though he knows that the killer is still at large and may turn on him if he gets too close. What have you done, Edmund? What efforts have you made to track down the assassin who was hired to blow out our father’s brains?’
Rage of the Assassin Page 25
