Woods slowed when they approached the coaching inn at Hatfield and indicated they were to change their horses. They pulled up in the cobbled yard and dismounted stiffly from their tired, sweating animals. Woods strode into the stables bellowing for the best horses, with Barnaby and Eddie trailing in his wake.
Lavender questioned the other stable hands in the yard about any sightings of Miss Matilda or her grandfather. No one remembered the old man but everyone remembered the dark, exotic girl and her expensive black phaeton when it called there to change horses.
‘She’d been thrashin’ those poor horses,’ one of the grooms said. ‘She nearly mowed down a young woman wi’ a child when she swung out o’ the yard.’
‘When was this?’ Lavender asked.
The groom glanced at the clock on the village church tower, just visible over the roof of the inn. ‘Just over an hour ago.’
Woods and the others reappeared leading fresh horses. ‘These are the best I can find,’ he grumbled. ‘They’ve got a right stable of queer prancers here.’
‘We’re making up ground on the fugitives,’ Lavender told them when they swung back up into the saddles. ‘They’re an hour ahead of us.’
The news reinvigorated his weary crew. They urged the fresh horses forward and cantered out of the stable yard. The countryside flew past in a haze of dust. The road became an endless brown ribbon undulating through fields of stubble, small woodlands and over the gently rolling hills. Lavender’s calf muscles screamed in agony from the endless pressure of standing in his stirrups. His rigid back ached and his shirt stuck to it with sweat. Only the wind whipping past his face kept him cool.
To take his mind off the pain, he tried to make sense of the complicated case of the Park Lane petticoat pensioners and the two Howard girls.
MacAdam’s deceptive courtship of Miss Howard started in May. A month later, MacAdam introduced Bentley to the younger Howard sister, and the two of them began a clandestine liaison of their own. Their secrecy suggested that the young girl knew from the start Bentley wasn’t a suitable sweetheart or future husband – but she obviously didn’t care. Perhaps it had always been their intention to elope?
MacAdam had a beguiling and dangerous charm; he lied about his background and prospects and acted his part as a baronet’s son with ease. Bentley didn’t have those skills, but he was a good-looking young man who had honed his seduction techniques on a group of amorous old ladies. Matilda Howard was plain and childish; Bentley would have swept a young girl like her off her feet.
Had he confided in her his involvement with MacAdam’s scheme to fake his own death? Did she know about the murder of Collins? And if she did, did she care? A girl who robbed her own sister had no conscience.
He’d no doubt Matilda had staged the burglary and stolen the ring to finance their elopement. It would have been easy for her to sneak into her sister’s room and remove the ring from the jewellery box. Next, she probably crept downstairs to smash the window in the laundry and make it look like they’d had an intruder. Then all she had to do was raise the alarm and the household descended into turmoil.
To Lavender’s relief, Woods slowed his wide-eyed and sweat-flecked animal when they approached The Sun coaching inn at Biggleswade. Scared that his stiff legs would buckle beneath his weight once he dismounted and tried to stand, Lavender pulled up at the mounting block to make his descent easier.
The sun was high in the sky now and unseasonably hot. Lavender’s hair was plastered to his flushed head beneath his hat. It was the same with the others; young Eddie glowed like a ripened tomato.
While Woods sought out some decent fresh horses, Lavender sent Barnaby into the inn to fetch them all a drink. There was no news of the fugitives or Mr Howard here in Biggleswade, but Lavender knew they weren’t far ahead.
The thirsty men and Eddie downed their ale in a few gulps and then hauled themselves on to the backs of their new horses.
They came across Mr Howard about twenty minutes later. His landau had pulled over by the side of the road. Lavender would have ridden straight past him if it hadn’t been for the distinctive jewelled turbans and flowing red-silk livery of the two coachmen. The servants were changing a rear wheel of the carriage.
Howard stood holding the horses still. His burnt, leathered face was lined with worry but it flooded with relief when Lavender reined in beside him. ‘Lavender! Thank God you came! We nearly had them, by God! We saw them in the distance, where the road crests that hill.’
Lavender followed Howard’s pointing finger to the hilltop about half a mile away. ‘How long ago was this?’
‘About fifteen minutes. Then the damned wheel started to wobble.’
‘We’ll go ahead and catch them,’ Lavender said. ‘Is Miss Matilda still driving the phaeton?’
Howard nodded angrily, and pointed to one of his silk-swathed coachmen. ‘The little minx tricked my coachman. She persuaded him to climb down from the carriage, scrambled into the box and drove off without him. We picked him up at Potters Bar tollgate. It’s good of you to come, Lavender. If we can catch them before nightfall we might be able to salvage something out of this madness.’
‘I’m sorry to tell you this, but we’re not here to save Miss Matilda’s reputation,’ Lavender replied. ‘We’re after Bentley. He’s wanted on a murder charge.’
Lavender had no time to explain further. He set his spurs to the horse’s flanks and surged forward, leaving the horrified East India man at the edge of the road.
They soon crested the hill where the phaeton had last been sighted and dipped down into a small wooded valley before rising again. Lavender wanted to charge on ahead but Woods held them at a steady trot as they twisted up the gradual incline.
‘It’s all downhill from the top of this hill to St Neots,’ Woods yelled over his shoulder. ‘Let’s give the horses chance to get their breath before we gallop again.’
Woods was right. The road fell away rapidly before them after this second hill. They thundered down it towards a sharp bend.
When they turned the corner, they saw a slow-moving line of wagons and coaches about three-quarters of a mile ahead, winding its way along the narrow road. The vehicles were hemmed in by another woody copse and the phaeton was the third vehicle in the line.
‘Stop!’ Lavender yelled, desperately hoping the others heard him above the rush of the wind and the drumming of the hoof beats. His officers sat back in their saddles, pulled up their horses and turned their flushed faces towards him.
For a second there was silence, apart from the whispering breeze in the tall grass and the gentle lowing of a cow.
‘They’re down there,’ Lavender said breathlessly, ‘caught in that line of traffic. I want to trap them at the St Neots’ tollgate just outside of the town. If we pace ourselves it should be easy. If Miss Matilda sees us, I wouldn’t put it past her to bolt off the road with the phaeton and turn it over. That’s why we need to hem them in at the tollgate.’
They moved forward at a steady trot with one eye on their prey. Slowly the gap decreased between themselves and the line of vehicles. Every time the phaeton disappeared around a bend in the road, they moved forward a little faster.
They timed it to perfection. By the time they rounded the last bend, the carriage was only a few hundred yards ahead, stationary and trapped in the queue for the tollgate.
Yelling with satisfaction, Lavender whipped his horse forward. The others thundered at his heels.
Bentley glanced over his shoulder in alarm. His face turned pale with shock at the sight of the officers bearing down on them. He leapt nimbly down from the carriage and ran.
Barnaby was on him in an instant. In a swift, graceful move, the young officer swung down from the saddle of his still-moving horse and landed on the fleeing clerk, knocking him to the ground.
Miss Matilda screamed, then picked up the reins. But Woods had already reached the lead horse of the carriage and had his hand firmly on its harness.
; Lavender drew up sharply beside her. ‘Get down from the carriage, Miss Matilda!’ he yelled. ‘Get down – now!’
‘Or else, what?’ Her face contorted with fury beneath the dark-green pleated satin rim of her bonnet. She pointed with her whip towards Barnaby. ‘You will knock me to the ground like he did to poor Bentley?’
‘No, madam.’ Lavender drew out his pistol from his pocket and aimed it. ‘If you refuse to cooperate, I will shoot you in the leg instead. You’re under arrest for the theft of your sister’s ring and your grandfather’s phaeton. Clap her in irons, Eddie.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
Let me help you down, miss.’ Eddie dismounted from his own horse and reached up his hand to help Matilda Howard.
Her grip tightened on her whip. Lavender held his breath, half expecting her to lash out at Eddie, but she leaned forward instead and sank her teeth into his proffered hand.
Eddie yelped, grabbed the girl roughly by the legs and hauled her down from the carriage. She landed in a crumpled heap of silk taffeta on the ground. He threw her over, yanked her arms behind her back and slapped the iron cuffs on her thin wrists. She screamed and yelled out in a foreign language. Lavender didn’t need to know Bengali or Hindi to know she cursed them.
Woods burst out laughing as he steadied the stamping horses. ‘Steady on, son. That’s not your brother you’re tacklin’!’
‘She bit me, Da!’ Eddie straightened up and held up his bleeding hand as evidence.
Woods shook his head and tried to keep a straight face. ‘I’ve warned you before, son. Women are the same as horses. When they’re in a mood – always keep away from the sharp end.’
Barnaby reappeared round the side of the vehicle, pushing a cuffed and dishevelled Bentley before him. The clerk’s hat had gone and his coat and breeches were covered in mud. His long dark hair flopped over a puffy left eye where the skin was discoloured and swelling. He’d soon have a nasty shiner to spoil his good looks.
‘How are we goin’ to get them back?’ Woods asked. Lavender noticed he was rubbing his injured shoulder.
Lavender pocketed his pistol and slid gratefully out of his saddle. ‘Get them inside the carriage and put the hood up. We’ll tie our horses behind the coach and you can drive the vehicle back to London, Ned. I’ll travel inside with them.’
The men nodded and quickly did his bidding. He gestured to the fugitives to climb back inside the carriage.
‘You don’t tell me what to do, Lavender!’ the girl screamed in his face. ‘You’re nothing more than a servant! Grandfather shall hear about this!’
‘Sooner than you think, madam.’ Lavender spoke between gritted teeth as he pushed her roughly up the steps.
A few moments later, the hood of the phaeton was raised and fixed in place. Woods mounted the box on the carriage, confidently called to the horses and shook the reins. The phaeton jolted forward then swung round smoothly.
Lavender sank back in the plush comfort of the red leather seats and sighed with satisfaction. He’d caught Bentley and although he could have wished for better company, the carriage was well sprung and comfortable. He didn’t expect any trouble from his captives. Even they weren’t stupid enough to throw themselves out of a moving vehicle while handcuffed.
He sat back and coldly observed the couple sitting opposite him. With their hands cuffed behind them, both were precariously balanced on the edge of the seat. Bentley looked dejected and stared down at the floor but Matilda Howard glared back at Lavender defiantly. Her gown was ripped and muddied and her hair pins had fallen out. Her bonnet was askew and strands of wiry black hair fell in a tangled mess over her shoulders. She glanced to Bentley for reassurance but he avoided her eyes, and continued to stare mournfully at the floor. His ridiculously long, dark eyelashes rested on his cheekbones.
Lavender turned to Bentley. ‘Do you understand why we’ve arrested you?’
The young man shrugged and mumbled: ‘Because I’ve eloped with Matty and she’s not twenty-one.’
‘Yes, there is that,’ Lavender said slowly. ‘We’ll have to add abducting a minor to your list of crimes when we reach Bow Street.’
‘It’s a false arrest,’ Matilda Howard said confidently. ‘My grandfather will not press charges against him once he sees how much we are in love. You waste your time, Lavender.’
Lavender repressed the urge to smile. ‘Do you love her, Bentley?’
‘Of course he does!’ Matilda insisted, nudging Bentley with her elbow. But he stayed silent.
‘Go on then, Bentley,’ Lavender goaded. ‘Tell her how much you love her.’
Bentley turned his head and stared out of the window. ‘I should have run yesterday when I had the chance,’ he muttered bitterly.
‘Alfie! Alfie, speak of your love for me!’
Lavender laughed. ‘He can’t, Miss Matilda – because he loves your fortune more than he loves you.’
‘You’re wrong!’
‘I don’t think so.’
She sank back into the corner of the coach glowering, but doubt flickered in her protruding eyes.
Lavender turned back to the silent youth. ‘So what was your plan today? Did you hope that if you whisked Miss Matilda to Gretna Green and married her, her money – and her grandfather – would protect you from the law?’
Still Bentley said nothing.
‘Alfie has done nothing wrong,’ Matilda said.
‘I don’t think you understand British law, Miss Matilda,’ Lavender said firmly. ‘He murdered Frank Collins and hid his body in a coffin. Then he took it to Chelmsford to bury and falsely claimed it was the body of MacAdam. That’s at least three capital offences in British law.’
‘He did not!’ Matilda exclaimed.
Bentley finally glanced up and fixed his blue eyes on Lavender. ‘I didn’t kill Collins – you can’t lay that one at my feet!’
‘But you don’t deny your part in faking MacAdam’s death?’
Bentley’s mouth flapped in confusion. ‘No! Yes! Yes, I do deny it. I had nothing to do with MacAdam.’
The coach jolted over a rut and Bentley nearly fell off the seat. Lavender grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him back, leaning in close to the young man’s terrified face. ‘We’ve identified the body in the coffin,’ he hissed. ‘I’ve got witnesses who will confirm you accompanied it to Essex. You’re going to hang for Collins’ murder, Bentley – and your other despicable crimes.’
‘I swear I never touched Collins!’ Bentley squealed.
Lavender gave him one last shove and sat back in his own seat. ‘Talk then. Tell me what happened.’
‘Say nothing to him, Alfie!’ Matilda yelled. ‘I will beg my grandfather to get you a lawyer—’
Lavender’s patience with the girl finally ran out. ‘Be quiet, madam! Your grandfather is about ten minutes away in his landau. From what I’ve seen of his mood, he’s more likely to take a horsewhip to you both and flay Bentley alive than get him a lawyer.’
She sank back in her seat in shock and sniffled.
Lavender turned back to Bentley. ‘Now, tell me what happened to Frank Collins.’
Bentley swallowed hard. Lavender could smell him sweating.
‘They’d been drinking.’
‘Who?’
‘Collins and MacAdam. Mrs Palmer was away visiting her friend in Dulwich – the one who married the vicar. They got drunk every night she was gone.’ Bentley poured out the rest. ‘They had a fight. MacAdam hit Collins hard and he went down. MacAdam killed him.’
‘Where and when was this?’
‘Back in June – in Collins’ bedchamber. He cracked his head on the hearth and died instantly.’
Lavender paused and remembered the cracked tiles he’d found on the corner of the hearth in Collins’ room. ‘What did they argue about?’
Bentley stared at the floor. A muscle in his neck twitched above his muddy cravat. ‘MacAdam said he intended to marry Amelia Howard – and damn his wife and children. Collins said th
is was wrong. He argued that a light flirtation was fine but he shouldn’t trick Amelia into marriage when he was already married.’
‘Well, I’m pleased to hear at least one of you three had some moral scruples,’ Lavender said drily. ‘What happened next?’
‘We were shocked he was dead and didn’t know what to do at first. MacAdam said a police investigation would scupper his chances with Amelia and pleaded with me not to tell anyone until he’d worked out how to get rid of the body. The next morning, he came up with the plan to send the body back to Chelmsford and fake his own death. He forced me to help him.’
‘Really? Are you sure he didn’t promise you something else instead?’ Lavender glanced at the girl in the corner of the carriage. ‘Like an introduction to a silly young heiress, for example?’
‘No! He forced me! He knew some bad people, did MacAdam. He threatened me. He bought a cheap coffin from someone in St Giles and organised a man to arrive the next day with a wagon. A man whom he’d paid well for his silence. I was to accompany the coffin back to Chelmsford and tell his wife he’d died of the pox.’
Lavender didn’t believe him for one minute. ‘And then, to thank you, he kindly introduced you to Miss Matilda.’ He turned to the girl. ‘Did you know about any of this?’
She turned her head haughtily and looked out of the window.
Lavender laughed, a cruel dry laugh. ‘It’s a shame you’re going to hang, Bentley, because the two of you deserve each other. It’s a long time since I’ve met a young couple so perfectly matched in deviousness. What was your plan after that? How did you intend to convince Mr Howard to accept you as a suitor for Miss Matilda?’
Bentley swallowed again. ‘We intended to elope the day after MacAdam and Amelia’s wedding. MacAdam promised to do his best to help convince the old man to accept the match. We didn’t want Howard to cut her off without a penny.’
Murder in Park Lane Page 24