by S K Rizzolo
When there was no response, Chase took the button from his waistcoat pocket and laid it on the parapet. “I found this along with Mrs. Leach’s bonnet in a water trough. Do you recognize it?” As he spoke, he was running his eye down the other man’s coat; Rex’s buttons were of metal, not cloth, yet he’d had ample time to change his garments, Chase thought.
“A common enough thing,” said Rex indifferently, barely glancing at it.
“Why would Mrs. Leach refer to herself as a ‘wretch’ and pen a note to arrange the care of her children? She was getting her affairs in order because she knew she was in danger.” Chase allowed Rex to read the note but kept the memorandum book in his own hands.
“This means nothing.” Rex pushed the book away. “My daughter believed we are all sinners. She understood the fragility of life; after all, she lost a child of her own body less than a year ago. She merely took precautions.”
But Chase had glimpsed a flash of fear behind the raw pain in the other man’s eyes. At any rate, the explanation failed to satisfy. “Your daughter’s fate is terrible enough, but we must consider her husband’s death. You’ve been helping Mrs. Leach hide the truth.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chase. Of course I dealt with the surgeon and promised to handle the parish authorities for Mary. She needed me. Any father would do the same.”
“Mrs. Leach told Fladgate a cock and bull story about a masked assailant. Did you open your purse wide, hoping to ensure his silence? Maybe you even bribed the porter at the Daily Intelligencer to disappear.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Who then?”
Rex shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone must have wanted the porter’s information. I’ve seen the watchers in Fitzroy Square, and they followed us from Greek Street last night too. I’m sure they are agents employed by the Home Office. Last night Mary said…she was afraid, Chase.”
“We are speaking of Leach. The porter Peter Malone was a witness to what happened at the newspaper office. Did he see—a woman?”
“What does it signify if he did? Who would believe a mere woman capable of such a crime? Any man could defend himself. In any case, if Malone saw a woman, it could just as easily have been Mrs. Wolfe. I’m told she had called on Leach at the Daily Intelligencer.”
Fury swept over Chase. “You dare to imply Mrs. Wolfe had something to do with the attack? You know perfectly well your own daughter was there that night.”
“I insinuate nothing. I only hint at the construction the world may put on these events. What good can it do to destroy my Mary’s reputation? The only thing that matters is to find out who did this to her and why.”
“I don’t know yet, but I suspect the villain was after information.” Chase had decided it would do no good to mention that Mary Leach had been tortured by having her head thrust into a trough of dirty water, though this information must come out in the inquest. Besides, he wanted to see if Rex would betray any knowledge of the scene.
Rex lowered his face to his arms. “My God, how frightened she must have been. Why did no one come to her aid?”
“The beggars in the Arches are unlikely to intervene.”
“It’s bad enough that Mary’s children must suffer the loss of their mother, but think of the scandal.”
“You’re right. The journalists are bound to seize on the story. She must have told you something, Rex. Mrs. Leach left the house to meet someone, and you said she was afraid. Who was it?”
“I tell you, I don’t know! She didn’t take me into her confidence. She didn’t trust me, her own father. I’ll live with my failure for the rest of my life.”
“You must have a theory.”
His bent head shifted, and his voice was slightly muffled when he answered. “She needed to escape an intolerable situation. She was trapped. She mentioned you, Chase. When I told her Mrs. Wolfe was your friend, she asked me whether I thought you a decent man. What could I say? Should I have advised her to consult a Bow Street Runner?”
“A pity you didn’t, isn’t it?” said Chase wearily. “Why did she want to see Mrs. Wolfe?”
“To put her on her guard? I had tried that myself when I told Mrs. Wolfe’s fribble of a husband about the masked man. I wanted to see how he would react, and I thought he was sure to repeat the story to her. A miscalculation, as it happened.”
“Yes, because after you rushed to your daughter’s side, you learned she was the one involved, not Mrs. Wolfe.”
“I did think Mrs. Wolfe might be Collatinus.”
“Why should you suspect her?”
“She might have tried to resurrect the past or hoped to profit from old secrets. Her father was suspected of murdering a woman when he was last in London.”
“You mean Nell Durant?”
In his astonishment, Rex jerked upright. “You know about her?”
“One of the fashionable impure, once the Regent’s mistress. Your daughter owned a pocketknife bearing the device of the Prince of Wales. Did Nell give it to her?”
“Probably. They were friends. That was before Mary married Leach and turned Tory. My wife promoted the match because she thought Mary was wasting her life, dwelling in the past. Nell’s death along with the accusation against Sandford ruined my daughter. She was never the same.” He looked around vaguely. “Where is Mrs. Wolfe? If I am to explain, Chase, we must go back nearly twenty years to my friendship with her father.”
“Wolfe thought it best to escort her back to Greek Street. She was terribly distressed by the news of Mrs. Leach’s death. You say your daughter did not trust you enough to confide in you. Well, you have been guilty of the same fault with Mrs. Wolfe. We have been stumbling around in the dark. I do know Sandford was the original Collatinus.”
“True enough.”
“And Nell?”
“She was a woman who felt her power. Her smallest smile drew men like bees to a blossom. She used to hold court in her opera box like a queen. She’d already had several protectors by the time she came to the Prince’s notice.”
“Nell was also a wronged mother, according to the letters.”
Rex nodded. “She had a son a few months before she died. There were rumors.”
“What kind of rumors? Who fathered the child?”
“I heard reports it was the Prince of Wales. Nell once told me His Royal Highness had treated her shabbily. He cast her off as he casts off every woman after he’s had his fill. And promised her a settlement that was not forthcoming. Which explains why—”
“She resorted to blackmail?”
“She’d written her memoirs, you see. She meant to demand hush money from her former lovers and acquaintances in exchange for having their names expunged from the manuscript, and, of course, she wanted to embarrass the Prince. Then she came to one of my routs and met Sandford. He was one of a group of young men of good family and advanced opinions I’d been cultivating.”
“Whose idea was it to write the Collatinus letters?”
“Sandford’s. Nell had been made a plaything for rich and titled men, according to him. He convinced her to sell him information for his letters, which I agreed to publish. Her knowledge could thus do good for the world.”
“She agreed?”
“When an injury is done to a man, he may seek retribution at law or on the dueling ground. A woman has no such remedies, or so Nell claimed.”
“She sold the pair of you the secrets of her fashionable friends at an immense profit. Pay up or see your soiled linen exposed to the world. What were these secrets?”
“Oh, the usual,” Rex replied, a ghost smile flickering at his lips. “We took aim at the Prince’s debts, of course, and I recall there was a colonel who forced his mistress to sell her favors and thereby satisfy his creditors. A duchess, mistress to a government minister, who gained lucrative places for all her relation
s. The cuckolded aristocrat whose children all had different fathers. But would you believe that profit was not our primary motive, at least not my motive or Sandford’s? We intended nothing less than to discredit the aristocracy’s right to rule. If our targets refused to pay up, we would publish the information as paragraphs in the next Collatinus letter. Or, if they met our demands, as they usually did, we funneled some of the money toward the defense of the republicans or toward the families of the men who had been arrested. We couldn’t lose. One way or the other, our enemies paid.”
“Nell Durant paid a far higher price. What happened to her?”
“She was found murdered at her home in Marylebone. Her sister implicated Sandford.”
“What possible motive?”
“I don’t know. Someone offered to pay more for her memoirs, or Sandford discovered she had betrayed him.”
“You were in difficulties with the authorities. Maybe you decided that Nell had grown too troublesome and killed her yourself?”
“No, it must have been Sandford. There was no one else.”
“You are convinced of his guilt?”
Rex’s expression shifted uneasily. “He ran away, didn’t he? Yet I’ve always regretted our falling out right before he left. He said he was innocent, but I’m afraid I didn’t quite believe him. A friendship destroyed.”
“Perhaps he told you the truth. Sandford certainly didn’t kill your daughter. Two women are dead. If the same person murdered both of them, he was innocent. And what of you? I hear your political allegiances underwent a change. Did your daughter suspect you of having something to do with Nell’s death? Was that why she didn’t trust you?”
“Damn you, Chase. What can you know of my life? Nell was dead, Sandford gone for good. Nothing to be done for either of them. The authorities would show a man of my race no mercy, assume the worst, and put the blame for Nell’s murder at my door. I acted to save my family and myself. Do you judge me for it?”
“You made a bargain?”
“I betrayed no one,” he said proudly. “I told the scoundrels only what they already knew, but they made sure I was humbled. I was to renounce my belief in the rights of man at a public assembly and defend the English constitution in print. Ralph Hewitt, a connection of my wife’s, conducted the negotiations for me.”
“And you thought it was all over until the letters started again? You went back to your usury and found better ways to profit by fleecing young men with expensive tastes who were stupid enough to put themselves in your power.”
“You judge me by the world’s prejudice.” Rex looked into Chase’s face and sighed. “My father was a street hawker. What professions do you imagine were open to me? Do you know how often the wellborn have failed to honor my contracts? You wonder why I am forced to charge such high rates of interest? They are all liars and cheats, from the Prince of Wales down to the merest sprigs of nobility out to indulge their pleasures without paying for them.”
“His Royal Highness borrowed money off you?”
“He did—when I was fool enough to enter into financial engagements with him and his cronies. He has never repaid a shilling.”
“Will you bury your daughter in accordance with your faith, sir?” inquired Chase, suddenly curious. He knew next to nothing about Judaism, he realized. He had encountered few Jews in his life, and he had never before spoken at length to one.
“We do not observe the ceremonies of the modern Israelite. Mary was wed to a Christian. She had turned her back on her upbringing as I advised her to do and as I did myself, though I’ve never renounced my religion and never would. But I should have kept her safe with our people, who, I have always believed, are favored by Divine Providence. One more regret. I can’t help thinking that if I’d kept to my first wife—a good Jewish woman—none of this would have happened. And, even if it did, maybe Mary’s life would have been happier.”
Rex had returned to gazing over the river, but Chase decided it was time to stop dancing around. “What happened to the child Nell bore?”
“He died soon after his mother. A pity, but what future would he have had?”
“And the recent Collatinus letters? Blackmail again?”
“Perhaps. They seem intended to vindicate Nell Durant.”
“If Nell sold her memoirs to someone, where do you think this new Collatinus obtained the manuscript? The letters seem to contain extracts.”
“I cannot tell you.”
“You are an obvious suspect to have revived these letters. You knew Nell. You published the originals. You have reason to seek revenge on your own account.”
“I am not Collatinus. Do you think I would take such a chance a second time? My wife is not in robust health. As it is, she has been distressed by this business and looks on Mrs. Wolfe with disapproval, unfairly perhaps. Now I must tell the Countess about my poor Mary.”
“Did your daughter mention the letter she received yesterday?”
“She never said a word, but then there wasn’t an opportunity for much conversation. Her husband was dying, Chase.”
“What time did you leave her last night?”
“Around ten o’clock. Leach wasn’t going to last more than another hour or two, and Mary wanted to be alone to pray for his soul. I was to bring Mrs. Wolfe to her in the morning.”
“Why didn’t you wait?”
“Mary seemed so desperate. I thought it might comfort her to talk to Mrs. Wolfe, relieve her mind of a burden. I couldn’t bear the idea of leaving her on her own, to tell you the truth.”
“You went home after you left the Adelphi the first time? Your coachman or your wife can vouch for your movements?”
“Damn you to hell! Do you think I would beat my own child to death? No, I didn’t go home until later. I took a long walk, then made my way back to Fitzroy Square to rouse my coachman. You know the rest.”
Chase stared at him, eyes narrowed. Was Rex so depraved as to take his daughter’s life? It was possible, especially if Mary had become a threat to him, as it seemed Nell had before her. Horatio Rex had sacrificed his heritage to claw his way to respectability, and if Mary had endangered his business interests or his position in society, he might have struck out in self-preservation. Her killer had felt strong feelings for her, must have hated her, in fact, to hurt her so viciously. Mary’s father might have considered it his right to control his child and chastise her for her rebelliousness, and he could have staged the scene with Penelope as an elaborate charade to give himself a sort of alibi. On the other hand, Chase supposed that one of the other men in Nell Durant’s life could have killed Mary.
“I need names, Rex, names of the men you and Sandford blackmailed along with the names of Nell’s protectors.”
“It’s been nearly twenty years! Some of them are dead. Others have risen high in their careers. You’ll never touch them.”
When Chase didn’t respond, Rex finally gave the information, his reluctance obvious. Chase was careful to keep the reaction from his face. These were men of enormous power and influence: a government minister, a fashionable gentleman, a wealthy aristocrat who owned vast property in London, and a rakehell who had recently wed a young heiress. Chase would be lucky to gain access to their secretaries, let alone the men themselves.
“This George Kester. He was in attendance at your rout party the other night?”
“He’s an old friend. Part of the Carlton House set, a crony of the Regent.”
An old friend Horatio Rex had blackmailed, but Chase let this inconvenient fact pass. “Mrs. Wolfe also mentioned meeting Mr. Hewitt. It was he who helped you evade arrest back in the ’90s?”
Rex laughed shortly. “He’s a sort of cousin to my wife, but, make no mistake, Hewitt didn’t offer his aid out of any regard for me. He owed me a great deal of money. I was forced to forgive the debt in exchange for services rendered.”
&nb
sp; “Tell me,” Chase said, keeping his tone even, “did your daughter use Nell’s pocketknife to stab her husband? Did she do it to forestall Leach’s next revelation in the paper? She was shielding someone, or she wrote those letters herself.”
“You say that to me? You lower yourself to spread such filthy slander? A masked man murdered Leach, and there’s an end to it. Very likely it was this new Collatinus. You cannot deny he had reason enough to hate Dryden Leach. You find him and leave Mary out of it.”
“I won’t lie for you,” said Chase.
***
He spent the rest of the morning, trying to find anyone who might have seen Mary Leach or her murderer, but had no luck. Next he knocked at the door and questioned the Leach servants, including the footman Albert. Albert repeated his story about the letter Mrs. Leach had received, adding only that it had been addressed in a neat hand. No trace could be found of this correspondence—or indeed of any letters or papers except Mary’s memorandum book and some innocuous household documents in Leach’s study. Chase questioned the lady’s maid (rude and contentious) and the chambermaid (flighty and evasive). The former acted as if he were accusing her of negligence when he inquired about the button and stated positively that it hadn’t come from anything Mrs. Leach owned. The latter was the girl called Susan who had gossiped to Packet about finding her mistress’ wet cloak and boots on the night of Leach’s attack. When challenged, Susan burst into tears and denied the story.
“Don’t be afraid. Just tell the truth.” Chase kept his voice gentle.
“I am telling you, sir. I never said so.”
“Has someone instructed you to keep quiet?”
“Who would do that? I never said a word about my poor mistress. I’d never tell a lie about her.”
No matter how hard he pressed, the chit only cried all the harder, and he couldn’t get a word of sense out of her. He had no doubt Horatio Rex had made sure she wouldn’t talk. Similarly, he thought it would do little good at this point to interview the prostitute who’d told Packet she saw a veiled woman running down the street—for what did this prove, after all? The prostitute had caught only a glimpse of a fleeing form, and she hadn’t seen where the woman went. No, Packet had gleaned whatever information was to be had from that source, but Chase would ask him to keep looking for other witnesses.