‘If you wish, I will ask him for you when he returns home,’ she continued, her voice shaking slightly. ‘I’m sure he will do it. He knows most of the major mercers in the city.’
‘You’re right,’ Foxe said, blissfully ignorant of the inner tumult he had caused her. ‘That was a bad mistake. Yes, please ask him to try to find out. Ask him to focus on not just whether Belton tried to elicit fresh orders but exactly when he did so. As I said some time back, I feel the solution to this mystery does not rest on any single series of events but on a complex pattern of causes and effects, effecting each other over a period of time.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I will visit my banker and see what he can tell me. All the bankers in this city stay in close touch with one another, if only to obtain early warnings of attempts to obtain money under false pretences. A merchant like Belton seeking to borrow funds at short notice would surely see if he could persuade one or more of our banks to give him a loan. The trouble is that bankers are schooled to confidentiality from the very beginning of their careers. Getting them to talk about their clients’ financial dealings is like trying to persuade a bookmaker to confess to manipulating the odds on a horse race. Still, I have known my own banker for many years and am also an important client. I may be able to persuade him to give me some hints at least.’
‘I am already pursuing a question which intrigues me greatly,’ Lucy said, ‘though you will probably tell me it is of little importance compared with what you are doing. I shall try to find out all I can about the woman who is, or was, Belton’s mistress. If we can discover her identity, we may be able to persuade her to tell us what she knows.’
‘Far from dismissing it as unimportant, Lucy, I think it is an excellent idea. We know Belton told his wife next to nothing about what he was doing or what his plans were. Yet, somehow, she appears to be convinced he had a mistress, though she implied she was not the kind of woman to whom he would have given her jewels. Was that based on real knowledge, or simply an assumption. Most people feel the need to have someone they can confide in. If Belton did have a mistress, she must surely have been the recipient of his private thoughts from time to time.’
THAT EVENING, when they were alone together, Halloran told his wife what had passed between Lucy, Foxe and himself earlier in the day.
‘I could scarcely believe it,’ he said to her. ‘The little minx actually apologised—and seemed to mean it.’
‘You just need to be patient with her, Benjamin,’ Mrs Halloran replied. ‘She’s reached a difficult stage in her life, the transition from being a girl to becoming a fully-adult woman. Being the kind of person she is, which is far too intelligent for her own comfort and far more beautiful than she ever expected to be, she doesn’t quite know how to cope with those changes. They aren’t just physical, you know. Lucy has to deal with entirely new feelings and emotions, none of which she can control. If she’s unsettled and touchy, that’s all it is. She wants to be valued for who she is but knows most people, especially men, won’t look further than her physical beauty. Be tolerant and all will be well. Haven’t you noticed how fond of her dear Mr Foxe is?’
‘I’ve certainly seen him treating her with great kindness, even when she’s been really quite rude to him, my dear.’
‘Being with him is probably what she needs most at this time,’ his wife continued. ‘Not only is he somewhat older than she is he has considerable experience of the world and its ways. She’ll come to no harm with him, I assure you. She may show her claws from time to time and treat him with less respect than is his due but, deep down, she’s always been as fond of him as he is of her. Let them work it out between them. He’ll know to give her time and space to come to terms with how she feels. Meantime he’ll provide her with a safe haven for when she’s most confused and upset by her own emotions. We never had to experience this with Maria. She’s much too placid and easy-going. Lucy is a fiery little thing at the best of times. I expect her outburst about looking at her as if she was a prize animal was simply because she didn’t know whether she should admit to how pleasant it felt to be admired in such a way or not.’
‘I expect you’re right, my dear,’ Halloran said with a sigh. ‘You usually are. I will be guided by you as I always am in such matters.’
18
Foxe’s servants had only partly accepted Mistress Tabby’s explanation of their master’s odd moods, since they were still far from convinced it was correct. They also had no idea which woman their master could possibly be in love with as he had brought no new lady home. Henry, the coachman, had not been asked to take him anywhere that was not part of the normal locations for his master’s visits, save only to Belton’s warehouse and Molly had even gone so far as to pluck up the courage to ask Mrs Crombie what she knew, but received a discouraging answer. Mrs Crombie claimed to have seen no change in Mr Foxe’s manner or spirits, save only for some obvious frustration at the slow progress of his current investigation. While she appreciated their concern for their master’s welfare, she told Molly firmly that it was not their place to pry into his private affairs.
So, Foxe’s household continued to talk in hushed voices whenever they thought Foxe might overhear them and treat him with a kind of exaggerated deference. After a while, it began to cause Foxe serious irritation and as Molly was most often in and out of the rooms where he was, she was the recipient of his eventual outburst.
‘For heaven’s sake, Molly,’ he said, when she was clearing away the used dishes after his dinner, prior to bringing him the port and some nuts. Oddly enough, it happened to be at almost the same time that Halloran was talking with his wife about Lucy. ‘What on earth is the matter with you and the rest of my household? I am beginning to feel quite annoyed at the way you creep about and treat me as if I were some kind of invalid. Out with it, girl! I haven’t been treating any of you harshly, have I? Nor criticising your work in any way? So why are you all acting as if you expect me to either die or to lash out at you at any moment?’
‘Oh no, sir. It’s nothing like that,’ the poor maidservant replied, her distress quite plain on her face. ‘You’re the best and kindest master anyone could wish for.’
‘So, what is it then?’ Foxe demanded. ‘Have you all be doing something you think I wouldn’t approve of and fear I may find out and lose my temper?’
‘No, no! We’d none of us ever do something like that,’ she wailed, the tears now streaming down her face. ‘It’s just … just …’
‘There, there, Molly,’ Foxe said more gently. ‘There’s no need to get upset. I’m sorry if I raised my voice to you. Just tell me why you’re all acting in such an odd way. There has to be a reason.’
‘We’re worried about you, master. That’s what it is. You aren’t yourself. We’re afraid you might be ill or something.’
‘Why on earth would you think that?’ Foxe asked, by now genuinely mystified. ‘Do I look ill? Have I been coughing or refusing my food?’
‘No, sir. Nothing like that.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘I … I dursn’t say, master. I …’
‘Never mind then,’ Foxe said, as kindly as he could. ‘Go and ask Mrs Dobbins to come to me instead. As housekeeper, it’s her job to regulate both household and servants.’
It took a little while for the housekeeper to come. Molly must have been telling her what had taken place and probably crying over her too. Foxe was beginning to hate himself for upsetting the maid, though, truth be told, it took very little to do so.
When Mrs Dobbins entered the room, it was plain she was prepared for the questions she must face.
‘Mrs Dobbins,’ Foxe said, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. ‘I asked Molly why she and my other servants were behaving so oddly towards me. For some reason, it upset her greatly. She obviously knows the answer but couldn’t bring herself to tell me what it is. I hope you will be more frank with me. What have I done to upset you all?’
‘Noth
ing, sir,’ the housekeeper replied. ‘Nothing it all. It’s just that you haven’t been yourself for some little time and we are concerned about you.’
‘In what way haven’t I been myself?’ Foxe asked. ‘I haven’t been sick and I don’t think I’ve been bad-tempered towards any of you. What is the problem?’
‘It’s simply that you’ve been rather melancholy at times. Not as cheerful as you normally are. You’ve also only been to the theatre once in all that time. Is it the matter of Lady Cockerton, sir? We know she upset you, but that was quite a while ago now. You see, we can’t help but notice that you also haven’t brought any young ladies back here to spend the night with you either, sir. That’s not natural for you, is it? It’s always, well, sort of cheered you up when one of your investigations was going badly, like this one seems to be.’
There was silence lasting several moments while Foxe mastered his surprise at what Mrs Dobbins had just said. Then he burst out laughing.
‘It that all?’ he managed to say when his laughter had subsided. ‘Am I expected to seduce young women on a regular basis simply to keep my servants happy? Come, come, Mrs Dobbins. Has it never occurred to you and the rest that a man may change his ideas and manner of living simply because he chooses to? Young men can think of little else beyond luring pretty women into bed with them. In time, the urge to do so lessens and they think more of other things.’
‘I suppose so, sir.’
‘I know so. I’ve been extremely fortunate in my life so far. I have more than one good business, I live in a grand house and have sufficient wealth to do more or less whatever I like. Since I am also tolerable to look at, many young women have been easily persuaded to join me in the pleasures of the bedroom. Some indeed almost begged me to let them do so. I admit I enjoyed every moment of it, whatever people of a puritan leaning said of me. I did none of my companions any harm, seduced no married ladies or very young girls and have never abused my position as master in my own household. I therefore have no regrets. Yet time passes and one’s choice of pleasures changes. I am not sick. I am not in low spirits—no, that is not entirely true. If, at times, I seem glum and distracted, it is simply because I am feeling frustrated with the progress of my investigation into the disappearance of our mayor, as you have realised. I have so far followed various paths to seek to unravel the mystery, but all have led nowhere. Now, tell the others in the servants’ hall what I have just told you and urge them to start behaving normally again. If you and your fellows do not do so, I will indeed become seriously annoyed.’
Mrs Dobbins returned to the servants’ hall to tell them everything that had just transpired between her and their master. They listened carefully, complimented her on her courage in speaking to the master so directly and fell to discussing what he had told her. They agreed it would be a relief to them, as well as to Mr Foxe, to behave more normally. However, they remained concerned and not yet fully convinced of his explanation.
‘I’m certain what the master has told Mrs Dobbins is true,’ Mrs Whitbread said. ‘I would never suggest the master would lie to us or anyone else. It’s just that … I don’t think he has told her all the truth. There is definitely something in his manner that has undergone a profound change and it’s more than a different choice in how to enjoy himself. Even when that dreadful Lady Cockerton treated him so disgracefully, he got over it quickly and at least went to the bordello on a regular basis. He also began going to the theatre again, which was where he found most of his “pets” in the past. In the last few weeks, he has stayed at home almost every night, sitting in the drawing room and brooding on something.’
All the others agreed with this summary of the situation. The alteration in their master went well beyond some superficial change of interest in life. They would, of course, do as he said and act normally, but they would still keep their eyes and ears open to try to discover what had caused such a radical change in Mr Foxe’s outlook on life.
AS HE HAD AGREED with Lucy, Foxe now began the next stage in their joint investigation: looking into the exact timing and nature of Mayor Belton’s various attempts to raise money. As he left his house that morning, it looked as if he was following his usual path past St Peter Mancroft church and down to Gentleman’s Walk. However, he passed his favourite coffeehouse without either stopping or even looking in through the windows, clearly intent on some other destination.
That proved to be Norton and Fry’s Bank on the corner of the marketplace and roughly at right angles to where the coffeehouse stood. A fine building, apparently in the latest architectural style, though Foxe had little doubt this was mostly a façade. Many houses and shops in Norwich boasted fronts which matched the current fashion, while the building behind was still mostly timber-framed in the manner of Tudor builders.
Foxe had banked with Norton and Fry for years; indeed, his father had banked with them almost from the day they started business. He was thus a customer of long standing and given the size of the balance of his money they looked after for him, one of their most valuable sources of business.
From the moment he entered the bank, everyone hurried to discover what he needed and to assist him in whatever way he might require. Foxe was never haughty or difficult so everyone, from the chief clerk to the newest messenger boy, appeared genuinely delighted by his presence.
‘I would like to see young Mr Norton,’ Foxe told the chief cashier, ‘if that is possible.’
The chief cashier bowed and said he was certain Mr Norton would be delighted to see him, provided he was free. Then he hurried away through a door to the side of the banking hall and was absent for some minutes. When he returned, he was followed by a disgruntled looking fellow, whom Foxe judged to be a shopkeeper on a modest scale, who had just been refused the loan he was seeking. The fellow cast angry looks at Foxe as he passed, which doubtless meant he had just been summarily dismissed from the august presence of the founder’s son to make way for someone of far greater standing in the bank’s eyes.
Matthew Norton greeted Foxe warmly and called for coffee for his guest. He had none of the grave dignity of many bankers of an older generation. His father may have been one of the founders of the bank, and he a partner of high status, but he maintained an easy manner, especially with an old friend like Foxe.
‘What can I do for you, Foxe?’ he asked when they had drunk their coffee and passed the time of day for a few minutes in the approved manner. ‘You can’t surely be wanting a loan.’
‘Was that what your last customer was after?’ Foxe said. ‘I rather guessed as much.’
‘He was indeed,’ Norton replied, ‘and was never likely to get one, at least not from us. The fellow’s business has been in decline for a year or more now. Like all too many wine merchants, I fear he has become much too fond of the bottles he sells and has thus been drinking a good proportion of the profits.’
‘It’s about another person whose business has been in decline that I have come to speak with you,’ Foxe said. ‘You’ll doubtless know already that I have been asked by the city fathers to try to find out what has befallen our mayor.’
‘The possibly late but definitely unlamented Mr Belton,’ Norton replied. ‘What do you want to know? I warn you that we bankers are raised from our first entry into the business to regard our clients’ financial affairs as a sacred trust, never to be revealed to prying eyes.’
‘I’m well aware of what a close bunch you are,’ Foxe said with a wry grin. ‘I don’t want financial details, even if Belton banks with you, only bankers’ gossip.’
‘Since it’s you, Foxe, I may just be able to help you there, provided it doesn’t involve too close a look at private conversations.’
‘All I want to know,’ Foxe replied, ‘is whether Belton was doing the rounds of the banks earlier this year—probably first in February or March, then in July—trying to raise a substantial loan quickly.’
‘I worry about you sometimes, Foxe,’ Norton said. ‘You usually know far too much. The
answer is that he was on both occasions. The first time I gather he was successful and borrowed a substantial amount.’
‘But he didn’t succeed in finding any local bank willing to lend what he wanted on the second occasion.’
‘He did not and mostly for the same reason as the bibulous gentleman who just left. Everyone knows his business has been declining for some years. Bankers are a cautious lot, always wanting to be certain they can get their money back on time. Belton was full of promises for an imminent increase in sales and profits, but that’s all they were. Promises. No clear evidence that these increased sales would ever arise. Besides, we all knew he’d already taken out a substantial mortgage at the start of the year. After he’d been to one or two banks and left empty-handed, the word went about. Other bankers were ready with more or less plausible excuses before he even passed through their doors.’
‘Thank you, Norton,’ Foxe said. ‘That’s all I wanted to know—unless you’ll give me some idea of the sum he was looking for.’
‘It would be most wrong of me to mention a figure like two or three thousand pounds, so I prefer to say nothing.’
‘Of course. You told me nothing, should anyone ask. I’ll be on my way then.’
‘Don’t you want to ask about the third time Belton came looking for a loan?’ Norton said. ‘The most recent occasion. Early September, I think it was, only about two or three weeks before he disappeared.’
Foxe sat back on his chair instantly. ‘He came a third time?’ he said.
‘You see, my friend, you don’t quite know everything. You’ve no idea what pleasure it gives me to know something you do not.’
‘Forget the gloating and tell me about this last occasion,’ Foxe said. ‘It could be of the greatest importance.’
‘The difference this time,’ Norton said, ‘was that he was offering some security and asking for a rather smaller amount. The security was an amount of jewellery, which he said had belonged to his wife and her family. He wanted a loan of some £1500, if possible, which is what he said the jewellery was worth. He would, he said, accept a rather lower amount of, say, £1200, if that was all the bank would offer.’
Foxe and the Path into Darkness Page 19