Foxe and the Path into Darkness

by William Savage

  For more than an hour he sat there, ruminating on the many problems he imagined he faced in the months and years ahead until, just before one o’clock, he was startled by a loud knocking on the front door. One of his servants, probably Molly the parlourmaid, answered the knocking and he could hear a muffled conversation taking place in the hall. Feeling too lethargic to go and investigate, Foxe sat and waited until Molly knocked at his library door and hurried in, looking flushed and excited.

  Foxe regarded her with a considerable lack of interest. It was going to take more than one of Molly’s periodic displays of hysteria to stir him from his lethargy.

  ‘Oh, Mr Foxe, Mr Foxe!’ Molly wailed. ‘Something terrible has happened!’

  Foxe waited, but the girl merely continued to sob and twist the edge of her apron in her hands.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Molly, calm down and tell me what this terrible thing is,’ he snapped.

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ the maid gasped through her sobs ‘I don’t know and that’s the truth of it.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, girl!’ Foxe was in no mood to indulge Molly in her latest fantasy of doom. ‘Why do you think this event, whatever it may be, must be so terrible if you don’t even know what it is? Tell me that.’

  ‘Tis the Alderman’s footman, master. He’s come all of a lather from the alderman’s house with an urgent message for you. You’re to go to see Alderman Halloran as quick as you can. It must be something terrible what’s happened, mustn’t it, for him to come runnin’ here with a message like that?’

  ‘Urgent, certainly, but not necessarily terrible. Still, I’d best go and find out what’s bothering the alderman. Tell Henry to get the carriage ready and call Alfred to bring my coat and hat. It would take the best part of half an hour to walk to the alderman’s house on Colegate. The carriage can be there in a little over five minutes. Go on, Molly, go! Don’t just stand there. Do as I’ve just bid you. Is the alderman’s footman still here? He is? Send him in, then.’

  Molly bobbed a curtsy and left while Foxe got up from his chair, still without any sense of urgency. The alderman was prone to issuing such sudden summonses, probably because the mayor was harassing him and he needed to show he was taking the man seriously.

  Moments later, a young footman, looking more like a frightened rabbit than a human being, sidled into the room.

  ‘Did the alderman say why he wanted me in such haste?’ Foxe asked him.

  ‘No, sir. The master just yelled at me to run and fetch you. Dreadful upset ‘e were. I didn’t dare ask ‘im anything. I just ran here fast as I could.’

  Now it did sound as if something bad must have taken place. Alderman Halloran was not a man to shout at the servants, however irritated he might be. Nor get upset for no reason.

  ‘Very well,’ Foxe said, more kindly now. ‘When Molly comes back, have her take you into the kitchen and ask my cook to give you a drink and some food to eat. Meanwhile, here’s something for your trouble.’ A couple of pennies were produced from Foxe’s purse and handed over. ‘The moment my carriage is ready, I’ll go round to Colegate as quickly as I can.’

  3

  Barely fifteen minutes later, after an uneventful drive through the city streets, Foxe climbed down from his carriage outside the alderman’s house, sending Henry ahead to announce his arrival.

  Alderman Halloran’s house on Colegate was typical of several on that street, all owned by the wealthier merchants of the city. It had been built perhaps fifty years before, using high-quality red brickwork with pale limestone set around the windows and on the corners of the house itself. The front door, approached by four stone steps from the street, was framed by plasterwork columns and covered by a triangular pediment in the Roman style. There were three large sash windows on either side of this front door and seven similar windows in the second storey above, the central window lighting the top of the staircase and the landing. On the ground floor was a gracious hallway from which a sweeping staircase offered access to the floor above, at least for family members. The servants were required to use the back stairs. To one side of the front door were the dining room and withdrawing room. The whole of the opposite side was taken up by the alderman’s magnificent library. Family bedrooms and dressing rooms were on the floor above. The kitchen and other domestic offices lay at the rear of the house on the ground floor, near the foot of the servants’ stairs. It was more of a mansion than a house and quite the equal of many of the grand country homes occupied by the landed gentry.

  Much of the city was redolent with the aromas of the great marketplace: blood, meat, ripening fish, rotting vegetables, urine and large numbers of poorly washed human beings. It took newcomers some time to become accustomed to this pervading stench. Locals barely noticed it, save for when rain fell after a prolonged dry spell causing a kind of foul-smelling miasma to rise upwards from the streets and gutters. In contrast, Colegate had air perfumed by wealth and privilege: horse dung, warm brickwork and money.

  A gentleman like Foxe would, of course, always enter a house via the front door. All others were required to pass through the carriage gates to one side of the building into the yard beyond, where the stables and carriages stood. There, at the rear of the house, was the tradesman’s entrance.

  Foxe’s coachman had already used the fine brass knocker to announce their arrival and he now stepped back to allow his master to approach the front door.

  The door opened and Halloran’s normally imperturbable butler appeared, looking extremely harassed. He stood back to allow Foxe to step into the hall then tried to explain what was causing him such uncertainty.

  ‘I fear my master is not at home, Mr Foxe,’ the butler explained. ‘He came in some fifteen minutes ago, having left scarcely half an hour earlier to attend a normal meeting at the guildhall. He was much perturbed and wouldn’t let me take his hat or coat. Instead, he yelled—literally shouted—for a footman and sent the lad off post haste to summon you. That done, he went out again in a great rush, no one knows where. I have no notion when he’ll return. Perhaps you will be willing to wait here for him.’

  At that moment, Mrs Halloran came into the hall to see who had arrived. At the sight of Foxe, she rushed over to him, clinging to his arm and weeping copiously.

  ‘Oh, Mr Foxe, Mr Foxe,’ she cried, ‘I’m so glad you’ve come. Do you know where my husband is? He’s been rushing in and out this morning, telling me nothing. Now he has disappeared again. Normally he always tells me where he’s going. Something truly dreadful must’ve happened to make him act like this. Dear Mr Foxe, I know you’ll be able to put everything right. You’re such a capable and stable person. I’m at my wits end and my elder niece, Maria, does nothing but moan and sigh. She is so fond of her uncle, you see. We’re all afraid something must’ve happened to his business. Perhaps the warehouse has burned down and all the stock is lost.’

  ‘If so, dear Aunt, he would hardly have called for Mr Foxe to be sent for. Even amongst his many accomplishments, I doubt he possesses the ability to put out fires single-handed.’

  This calm and authoritative voice came from somewhere behind Foxe, who was now feeing totally at a loss. The outburst of emotion from Halloran’s wife and the unexpected situation he had encountered had left him confused and uncertain. He spun around to see who was speaking. In that instant, he was rendered speechless and witless by the sight of the tall, elegant young woman who was the source of the words.

  Surely this was Halloran’s younger niece, Lucy, he thought. Dear, wayward, unconventional, bright little Lucy. The one he’d always joked about marrying some day and who had told him, apparently in earnest, that he was not to marry until she was old enough to be his bride. But what he now saw before him was neither child nor gawky adolescent. This was a woman who was so ... so beautiful ... so desirable ... so adorable ... and so furious with him, for some reason.

  It took poor Foxe several more moments to find his voice.

  ‘Miss Lucy?’ he gasped. ‘Is
that you?’

  The words sounded foolish, even to Foxe, but his mind was numbed and unable to frame a more sensible response. He could only stare while his heart raced and his emotions surged in a way that had never happened to him before.

  ‘Of course, it’s me,’ the apparition replied. ‘Who else did you think it might be?’

  ‘But you’re ... you’re ...’

  ‘Grown up are the words I think you’re searching for,’ came the reply. ‘It happens, you know. You’ve thought of me as a child for so long you failed to see what changes were taking place before your own eyes. Not that you’ve bothered to enquire about myself and my sister recently. If you had, you would know that we have spent the past seven months in Paris, improving our French and being educated in matters such as fashion and ladylike behaviour. However, that is a bone to pick with you on another occasion. At the moment, I want to know what has brought you here.’

  ‘That’s unfair, Miss Lucy,’ Foxe managed to croak. ‘I did know where you and your sister were. Your uncle told me.’

  ‘But you never thought to write to me to ask me how I was faring, did you?’ she replied. ‘This was the first time I had been abroad. I had to cope with a different language, different customs and a demanding regime of lessons in deportment and proper manners. Didn’t you ever think about me? Not even once or twice? I thought we were friends and you were fond of me. I can see now I was wrong, since that’s not the way friends behave towards one another. It was a case of out of sight means out of mind.’

  Internally, Foxe squirmed with embarrassment, while trying frantically to think of some words to lessen Miss Lucy’s anger with him.

  ‘Did my cousin, Nicholas, know that you and your sister were away in Paris?’ he asked. If only Nicholas had mentioned this magical change in Miss Lucy. He could not really be blamed, he supposed. Miss Maria was the centre of his world, not her sister.

  ‘Most assuredly he did,’ Miss Lucy replied, ‘and wrote to Maria every week. Indeed, as soon as he heard that we had returned he hurried round to see her. I think he was concerned that she may have been swept off her feet by some handsome Frenchman and was deeply relieved to find that her feelings towards him had not changed. The same thing might have happened to me, of course. Would you have cared? Or did you still think of me as a child, too young for such a thing to happen? I can assure you there were several handsome young Frenchmen who took a very different view and pursued me with some ardour.’

  The violent pang of jealousy Foxe suffered at these words reduced him to speechlessness for a second time. Others had clearly seen what a confident and desirable young lady Miss Lucy Halloran had become, while he remained blind to the changes. All he could do now was hang his head in shame and curse himself over and over again for being a stupid, thoughtless, self-centred fool.

  There followed a prolonged silence while the two looked at each other; Foxe hopelessly enchanted by this young woman and Miss Lucy obviously irritated and disappointed by Foxe’s neglect. Finally, Foxe managed to say something to break the silence.

  ‘How did you and your sister cope with living in France?’ Foxe asked. It was a silly, lame remark, but his feelings were in such turmoil he couldn’t think of anything else.

  Miss Lucy’s reply was delivered in icy tones. ‘I suppose that your belated interest in our doings is mildly gratifying, however we are straying from the point at issue again. Why have you come here this morning?’

  At this point, her aunt, who had been staring at the pair of them, intervened. ‘Lucy!’ she said. ‘Where are your manners? To speak to dear Mr Foxe like this ...’

  ‘I can see nothing impolite in what I have said, Aunt,’ her niece replied. ‘All I have done is ask Mr Foxe a simple question. When he can manage to stop staring at me with his mouth hanging open, I hope he’ll be so good as to answer it.’

  It took a major effort on Foxe’s part to pull himself together. The young woman before him was not just elegant and poised, she was something far more than both of those things. She was ... what? Extremely desirable, if not altogether in the conventional sense. She was too slim and tall for that. What else? Formidable and startlingly intelligent, though neither of these were qualities calculated to attract the vast majority of young men. Yet it was these very aspects of her personality which had now set Foxe’s heart racing. He had a sense that, under that serene exterior, passions existed that might break out at any time and send him reeling. If that was what seven months in Paris did to you, he’d suggest it to everyone he knew who had a daughter.

  Now, worst of all, he had to accept that he had now almost certainly lost her regard forever through his crass thoughtlessness. All that she had said was true. He’d been so wrapped up in his own affairs, he’d hardly given a thought to her or anyone else. Had he always been like that? A voice inside his head assured him sadly that he had.

  ‘Well, Mr Foxe?’ Lucy said. ‘Are you going to answer my question or not?’

  ‘Your uncle sent one of his footmen to ask me to come here with all speed,’ Foxe replied. ‘That I have done. The reason for his summons I do not know. Nor do I know where he is now.’

  ‘You see, Aunt? My uncle would not have sent for Mr Foxe if he had not planned to be here to speak with him. That means he must be about to return. In the meantime, I suggest that you and Maria retire to your rooms and await his coming. Meanwhile, I will take Mr Foxe through to the library and do my best to entertain him. He can tell me something of the mysteries I know he has been handling while I was away. Perkins!’ This to the butler who was still hovering uncertainly beside Foxe. ‘You haven’t even taken Mr Foxe’s hat and coat. What is the matter with you? Do so at once. Then I’m sure you must have some duties to attend to, so I suggest you go about them and await your master’s return like the rest of us.’

  The unmistakable tones of command in which these words were spoken shook Foxe even further, though they had the desired effect on the others. They calmed down and did what Miss Lucy told them to do. She, in turn, opened the door of the alderman’s library and walked swiftly inside, clearly expecting Foxe to follow her.

  He did just that.

  They had no chance for any further conversation since almost at once there came a loud knocking at the front door and Alderman Halloran was swiftly ushered into the house. The butler must have told him where Foxe was for he at once came into the library, still wearing his outdoor coat and holding his hat in one hand. Attempts by Perkins to take them from him were waved to one side and the fellow was brusquely told to go about his business and stop bothering him.

  Foxe was still standing when Halloran entered but, if he expected any kind of normal greeting, he was doomed to be disappointed. Miss Lucy now quietly subsided into a chair and seemed to be trying to make herself as inconspicuous as she could.

  ‘Ah, Foxe! Good man!’ Halloran said. ‘Sorry I wasn’t here when you came, but I’ve been trying to cope with my overexcited colleagues amongst the aldermen and prevent them from doing something foolish. Hope Lucy has been looking after you properly. You must have noticed quite a change since you saw her last, eh?’

  ‘I most certainly have, Halloran,’ Foxe replied, careful to keep his voice neutral and his gaze away from Miss Lucy. ‘I gather she’s just returned from her time in France.’

  ‘Seems it’s the thing these days to send young women to Paris for what people call “polishing”,’ Halloran said. ‘My wife and I thought both the girls would benefit from it so we arranged for them to stay with a French family of good repute and receive instruction in deportment and heaven knows what else. However, I don’t really have time to talk about that now. We have a serious crisis in the city. The mayor, Alderman Belton, an important figure despite his many shortcomings, has disappeared. Gone. Vanished without leaving a trace. You can imagine the problems that will cause. He has to be found as quickly as possible. I’ve spoken with other senior aldermen and we have agreed that you’re the man to track him down.’

 
Foxe stared at the alderman without speaking. This new shock, coming on top of everything else that had happened since he arrived in Colegate, left him still more bewildered and confused. Most of his mind was numbed by a turbulent mixture of surprise, desire and shame with regard to Miss Lucy.

  ‘Foxe?’ Halloran said, his voice conveying his annoyance at Foxe’s lack of response. ‘Did you hear what I said? Robert Belton has disappeared. We have no idea what has happened to him. We need you to track him down.’

  Foxe frantically tried to pull himself together and pay attention to this most unexpected of events.

  ‘Does anyone have any notion where he might have gone and, more importantly, why?’ he said.

  ‘No one whatsoever. You can take it from me that the fellow’s quite unsuitable to be mayor of this city but the mayoral appointment by long-standing custom depends wholly on seniority as an alderman. Nothing could be done to prevent Belton taking his turn without setting an unfortunate precedent and provoking considerable upset by what would have been seen as a grave insult. No one ever imagined anything like this would happen. Belton’s wife came to the guildhall this morning and spoke to the clerk to the council. She reported that her husband hasn’t been seen for three days. He said nothing to her about travelling anywhere and the only clothes missing are the ones he was wearing. She also told the clerk that Belton’s chief clerk, who basically runs his business on a day-to-day basis, has also gone missing. Seems he disappeared sometime either the day before Belton or on the same day. I’m not sure who’s in charge of the business now.’

  ‘The two of them have both gone?’

  ‘Precisely. Damned strange, isn’t it? I’ve just come from the guildhall where as many aldermen as could be found quickly have been gathered to discuss the situation. Before they got started, I suggested that you, Foxe, should be called upon to investigate as a matter of the greatest urgency. Naturally, I didn’t tell them I’d already sent for you. Anyway, my idea won unanimous approval and I’ve come back hoping to find you’d already arrived. As soon as I can, however, I’ll have to return to the guildhall to try to stop the whole debate going down side roads and getting lost in irrelevant details.’