by Wendy Bayne
Emilie came forward and sat by my mother, patting her hand. “It’s alright, you’ll be fine in a bit.” Mother smiled weakly and glared at my aunt when she coughed.
Father stood up and looked at Mr Spencer. “Well, Arthur, do you have any suspects?”
Mr Spencer nodded at Lord Gromley who immediately went pale under his scrutiny. But he managed to stammer. “Oh God, no, I only, I only just got here myself, my good man! I will not mourn him, but I did not kill him.”
Mr Spencer nodded. “I’m aware of that, Lord Gromley, it’s been confirmed by your coachman, groom and the rest of your staff. Besides the footman that came after me told me that you weren’t in London yet but were expected later today. He was just as surprised as I was to find you here when we returned.”
He walked to the French doors that led out to the garden, “My men are canvassing the neighbourhood as we speak and searching the area. We found two sets of footprints leading from this door but none returning. We can only assume that General Hughes either knew his murderer or was followed into the garden.”
Father crossed his arms. “That still doesn’t answer my question, do you have a suspect in mind?”
Mr Spencer faced him then spread his hands wide. “Everyone and no one, Mr Turner. After considering the previous events such as Mr Hughes being shot and the things that have recently come to light courtesy of Mr Johnson, I believe that we can safely look outside of your immediate family. That leaves us with just the staff and any of his business partners. The servants have all been accounted for and no visitors were admitted by any of them. I would assume then that the murderer was someone the General expected and who he was not afraid of, at least not normally.” He paused before continuing, “Where is your valet, Mr Turner?”
Father straightened to stare at Mr Spencer, his lips pressed tight together with suppressed anger. Mr Spencer repeated his question, “Mr Turner, I would like to know the whereabouts of Mr Richards!”
Father grimaced and sighed. “As would I, sir.”
Mr Spencer proved to be unrelenting. “I have been unable to locate him, so I ask you again where is your valet?”
Father slumped. “I really have no idea, Arthur. He left the day before yesterday without my knowledge and I’ve not seen him since.”
Mr Spencer walked back to sit on the other side of Aunt Mary. Mr Johnson was flipping through some papers on a table at the back of the room, but he spoke to my father over his shoulder. “Turner, your footman, Murphy, he’s Irish, isn’t he?”
Samuel groaned and answered instead of my father, “For god sakes, you already know that, Miles! What are you looking at there?”
Mr Johnson waved a pamphlet in father’s general direction. “Just what seem to be a collection of political pamphlets on various topics.”
Samuel glared at him and continued, “Before you ask, Miles, yes he writes pamphlets about Irish home rule now and again. However, he is not a rebel!”
Mr Johnson feigned a look of shock. “Oh, pardon me, but you did say that he’s an Irishman and that he writes political pamphlets about Home Rule. Yet he’s not a rebel. You know, Hughes, not everyone would see that in the same light.”
Father walked over to him. “Alright, I see your point, but he doesn’t advocate violence. Good God, he lost a sister in the Dublin riots. What are you implying, Miles?”
“I’m not implying anything, Turner, merely pointing out that these were left here for some reason and what better reason than to discredit not only Murphy but your family in the bargain.” Mr Johnson stepped aside for my father.
He picked up one of the pamphlets and glanced over it then he slammed it back onto the table. “That is not Murphy’s work! I know his style. For heaven’s sake, I was the one that recruited the man and we’ve never found anything in his history that indicated he was violent, in fact, it’s quite the contrary.”
Mr Johnson raised an eyebrow. “He was a soldier was he not and did it well? Is that not being violent? And is his name not Aedan Murphy?”
Samuel growled. “Of course that’s his name but you might note Johnson that he was fighting on the British side in the war and not with the French!”
Father picked the pamphlet up again, examining it more closely. “That’s his name but those are not his words, as I said I know his style. Why would these even be here? My father-in-law was not a supporter of Home Rule to my knowledge.” He looked at the settee where my aunt was sitting. “Lord Gromley, are these yours?”
Lord Gromley looked up. “No, son, they’re not. While I sympathize with the plight in Ireland I have no influence in the house nor with anyone that does.” He paused and reached out his hand. “May I see them?”
Father gathered them all up and brought them over to him. He examined the top one closely. “You’re right, Colin, no Irishman wrote this! It’s a decent attempt, I will give you that. But the Irish are a poetical and passionate people and they are very particular with their cadence when writing. The person that wrote this was only angry. I would hazard a guess that whoever did write it is well-educated and probably as English as either you or I.”
Mr Spenser ran his hand over his hair and leaned forward. “But why, I mean why were they left here, what purpose does it serve?”
Lord Gromley pursed his lips. “Perhaps as Mr Johnson suggested to implicate this Murphy chap and thereby cast aspersion on Colin? You can see that these are hand-written and in fact appear to be drafts not yet ready for the printer.” Lord Gromley pulled out another one randomly from the handful my father had given him. “Oh my, this is strange. Look at this one, it’s about Catholic emancipation. It’s been a bone of contention in Parliament for some time now, but it would be the end of Liverpool as Prime Minister if any of the proposed bills were passed.” He rifled through the others with a frown on his face and pulled out another one. “This one is about elections in the rotten boroughs and government corruption. Every one of these is on a different topic that touch the Irish or the poor and are very inflammatory to the present government. Look, you can see that they’re all in the same hand and written with the same anger and language.”
Then Aunt Mary spoke up, “What part could they possibly play in Samuel being shot or Richard murdered?” She looked about the room as if one of us could answer her.
Mr Spencer clasped his hands behind his back. “What about the General? Tell me, did he ever express any dissatisfaction with government policies on the Irish?”
Lord Gromley looked at Aunt Mary and shook his head as he answered, “Not that I am aware of. Richard never had much interest in politics. If the Tories were in power, he was happy. And I would swear that these are not written by Richard. Do you agree, Mary?” My aunt was reading one and nodded in agreement.
Mr Johnson snorted. “Colin, none of this makes any sense, do you think the General was going to try and discredit you or Samuel?”
Father shook his head. “No one knows what we really do for the Crown and besides we’re not policy makers. Granted Liverpool has governed with an iron fist and it’s made him unpopular in many circles, even within his own party. But our work has nothing to do with any of those issues. We’re strictly involved with espionage and smuggling. We’re servants to the Crown no matter who is in political power.”
Mr Johnson was shaking his head. “Mr Spencer, might I suggest that the pamphlets were left here as a red herring to distract you from the case at hand or that they have nothing to do with the murder at all. I suggest that we forget the pamphlets for the moment and look at what we do know. First the General is deeply in debt, yet he owns a very large warehouse by the Pool of London which I might add was unknown to his family or his solicitors. So how does a man make such a purchase without anyone knowing and without any capital? Nor has he ever been involved in shipping or trade of any kind that we know of? Second, there is Mr Browne, a person of dubious ethics also deeply in debt and who has been seen coming and going from this warehouse with Mr Turner’s valet who is a known
smuggler.” While the first two men are not particularly liked by their families or associates they have connections within society that the likes of Richards would not have. Richards on the other hand has the connections that could be of use to men in desperate need of money."
Mr Spencer rubbed his chin and bit his lower lip while flexing his shoulders. “I see your point. But I can’t just ignore these seditious writings!”
Mr Johnson smiled. “I doubt we’ll ever find who actually penned them. But are you prepared to embarrass Lord Gromley with these? The death of the General will be enough to bring an unusual amount of attention to him and to this house as it is. It’s my belief that they were meant to be a distraction and to perhaps cast aspersions on Turner and Hughes.”
Mr Spencer was grinning from ear to ear. “Johnson, Are you committing to assist in investigating this mess?”
Miles grimaced. “Yes, I suppose I am.” Then he smiled and looked at my father in mock distress. “Turner, this is entirely all your fault! You’ve made my life far too interesting of late. Mr Spencer, I believe that I’m currently employed by his Majesty’s government as an agent under Mr Turner’s direction, therefore, am I correct in assuming, Turner, that these treasonous writings would come under the jurisdiction of Sir Thomas?”
Mr Spencer had his mouth open in shock, looking at my father with a steely glare as he asked, “Is this true! Is Wicker now in your employ?”
The tea arrived before anyone could reply. Emilie poured and passed the cups around. Once Father had a cup firmly in hand, he turned first to eye Mr Johnson and then address Mr Spencer. “His appointment is contingent upon approval by Sir Thomas. But yes, Johnson has agreed to act in the open as an agent of the crown in order that Samuel and I may maintain our anonymity.”
Samuel had moved to stand by the windows, looking out at the garden. I wondered if he could see the summer house from there. There was a hesitant knock at the door and a little dark man with the most extraordinary gold earring dangling from his right ear stuck his head around the door. “Ah, there you are, Spencer. I’m done with my preliminary examination, the cart will be here shortly to remove the gentleman. You will have my report on your desk by tomorrow afternoon.”
He started to shut the door but before he could, Samuel wheeled around and quickly asked, “Ah, sir, a moment please, Mr…”
The doctor answered, “Grimes. It’s Dr Grimes.”
“Yes, Dr Grimes. I was wondering if it would be possible to have our personal physician examine my father as well. Not that I would doubt your findings but for our own piece of mind. Dr Jefferson studied in Padua.” He emphasized the word Padua as if that would mean something special to Mr Grimes.
And apparently it did, he initially stiffened then he bowed to Samuel. “As you wish, sir. I won’t have all the equipment he may require but I would very much like to be in attendance when the—ah, examination is performed. It is after all Bow Street business.” He smiled, and I saw that he was missing one front tooth which had been replaced with a gold one.
Samuel nodded. “I will arrange it. Thank you.”
Dr Grimes bowed. “Your servant, sir. Mr Spencer will have my direction as to where he should come.” And with that he spun on his heel and left.
Aunt Mary grimaced. “What an extraordinary little man! He looks more like a pirate than a doctor.”
Mr Spencer laughed. “My dear Lady Alford, you have hit very close to the mark. Mr Grimes is a trained physician but when he was done with his education he signed on broad as a ship’s doctor for a bit of an adventure. However, not being a sailor, he didn’t realise that he had signed onto a merchantman headed for the West Indies. The ship was taken by pirates and it took him ten years of service to them to earn his way home. He’s vowed never to board a ship again.” He chuckled. “He has a comfortable practice now among the wealthy merchant class and supports a wife and family. He still has some interesting connections though among the more nefarious individuals that sail in and out of London.”
He started for the door then as he put his hand out to open it, he added, “Gentlemen, since we will be working together on this perhaps you’d like to view the body before it’s removed? Then you can examine the crime scene.”
I walked over to my father’s side taking his hand. He looked at me and shook his head no. “Lissa, I know that you’re a very strong young lady, but I really want you to stay with your mother right now.” I frowned until he added, “When we go out to the summer house, you may come with us.” He squeezed my shoulder then left with the other gentleman including Lord Gromley.
Chapter 15
Best Wishes to All
We sat quietly waiting for the men to return, none of us moved or said a word. I knew that if I got up I would be told to sit but time was dragging on and it was so quiet that I could hear my heart incessantly pounding in my ears to the point that I felt like I would scream.
Finally, we were rejoined by everyone but Lord Gromley, so Mother asked, “Where is his Lordship?”
Father replied, “He’s lying down. He’s been under a great deal of stress and not been well lately, yet he left Northumberland as soon as he knew that the General was headed for London. It was not a comfortable trip for him and has taken its toll. I’ve sent for Dr Jefferson to attend to him. I believe he just needs to rest.”
Aunt Mary looked pale and suddenly older. She started towards the door as if she would go to him, but Samuel touched her arm, redirecting her to Mr Spencer who wrapped his arms around her while she cried. In all the turmoil, we had forgotten that her only brother was dead and despite the person he may have been she had still loved him.
Father suggested that we all venture into the garden since Mr Spencer and his men had already been over the crime scene. My father, Uncle Samuel and Mr Johnson obviously wanted to go over everything themselves.
Mr Spencer gave us one order, “Please, don’t remove anything.” Father nodded. We left them in the drawing room and went through the French doors and stood looking down where the grass had been crushed but the warm day and mild breeze had dried up the rain from the previous night, making the prints barely visible.
The summer house was located at the bottom of the garden hidden from our view by a large willow tree next to an ornamental pond. Mother took my hand and we started walking towards it. Emilie hung back ghostly pale and she balked at following so Samuel went back into the house with her. I looked over my shoulder for my father and Mr Johnson who were slowly following and talking in whispers while looking about. We reached the pond where the sun sparkled on its surface when I caught the glint of something in the water on the far side as we passed but it disappeared as we got closer and was probably just a trick of the light. I followed my mother up three steps and into the shadow dappled summer house.
At first nothing there was nothing visible until our eyes adjusted to the dim light. Then I saw a large wicker chair with a reddish stain over one arm and pooling on the floor, beside it was a large glistening red puddle so thick that it still looked wet while the stain on the arm of the chair had already begun to dry, turning a reddish brown. The General must have fallen sideways in the chair for it to have collected on the floor like that. Mother gagged and immediately turned away then stepped back out the door. Father and Mr Johnson joined me as I stood transfixed, looking down at the congealed pool at my feet.
Mr Johnson walked around the periphery of the room, examining everything closely. “There doesn’t appear to have been any struggle. And there’s no trace of blood leading from the body. Whoever did this wiped off the murder weapon and took it with them.” He held up a bloody lap rug that had been tossed on floor as evidence of the clean-up. He put it down then came and stood beside me, looking at the puddle and the chair. “Do you see it, Turner?”
My father looked frustrated and worried, “What are you talking about, Miles?”
He puckered his lips before responding, “There’s no passion to this crime. It’s very cold and calcu
lated. Clearly our murderer has done this kind of thing before without compunction.”
Father walked back looking closely at the entryway and the steps. “You’re right, Miles, there isn’t any blood leading out of here or anything that would indicate that someone was distressed and had run away.”
Outside Samuel was standing at my mother’s side speaking to her and just as we reached them, Samuel said, “I’m taking Emilie and Aunt Mary home, I think Irene and Clarissa should come as well.” Mother nodded and stretched out her hand to me.
Father walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be home soon, darling, take Murphy and Jacob with you. I’ll keep Michael with us.”
We started towards the house just as the sun came out again and I saw the same sparkle again in the depths of the pond. I turned calling out to my father, “Father, you should check the pond. There’s something shiny over there.” I pointed to the far side of the water nearest the garden wall. He nodded so I turned and left with my mother and Uncle.
This time Samuel got into the carriage with us and Murphy rode his horse. He looked exhausted, but everyone looked drained as we sat there with our own thoughts. I wondered if his marriage to Emilie would be postponed now. Even though the General was not universally loved, he was my mother and uncle’s father and it would be expected that we would observe a period of mourning.
My uncle rubbed at his nose and sniffed yet he didn’t appear to be upset. Mother just sat looking out the window, her hands folded in her lap. The best way I could describe her look was numb. Emilie was shredding a handkerchief while watching Samuel. Aunt Mary had appeared to be deep in thought but finally broke the silence, “We have some decisions to make and quickly. Samuel, you must contact that minister friend of Miles and have him come to the house as soon as possible, the banns have been read so there is no reason that you can’t be married tomorrow. I will not have this unfortunate state of affairs stop your wedding.”