‘We still think you’re in league somehow,’ added Hale.
‘A moment ago, we had clear proof of it.’
‘I’m more than entitled to kiss a dear friend,’ said Hamer, defiantly.
‘We feel that you know a lot more about Mr Bowerman’s death than either of you are prepared to say.’
‘The only thing we know is that it appalled us, Mr Yeomans. That’s why we are so keen to catch the killer ourselves.’
‘Why not leave that task to someone more suitable?’
‘I don’t regard either of you in that light.’
‘We’re not the only ones taking part in the search,’ said Hale. ‘Peter and Paul Skillen have taken an interest as well.’
‘They always do,’ moaned Yeomans.
‘We’ve been pestered by them from the outset,’ said Hamer, angrily. ‘If you wish to help us, find a way to keep the pair of them tethered.’
‘Someone else is trying to do that. We think it might be you.’
‘That’s an absurd accusation,’ said Laetitia with a gesture of dismissal. ‘Take your ugly suspicions elsewhere, Mr Yeomans.’
‘The captain still hasn’t explained why he’s here.’
‘Nor do I intend to do so,’ retorted Hamer.
‘We thought that we were visiting the home of a woman who is mourning the death of Mr Mark Bowerman, yet what we find is that she’s receiving a kiss from the very person who tried to kill the gentleman in a duel.’
‘He challenged me. I could hardly refuse.’
‘You need never have incited the challenge in the first place.’
For the first time, Hamer looked unsettled and exchanged a glance with his sister. They’d been caught in what appeared to be a compromising situation. Realising that they could not browbeat the Runners as before, they adopted a different approach. Laetitia introduced a note of apology into her voice.
‘I’m sorry if we’ve given you the wrong idea,’ she said, manufacturing a smile for their benefit. ‘We should not be bickering out here on the doorsteps like fishwives. Why don’t you step inside the house for a moment? The captain has to leave on business,’ she went on, ‘but I will answer any questions you put to me.’
‘It’s true,’ said Hamer, taking his cue from her and softening his tone. ‘I have an important meeting to attend. Miss Somerville will speak on my behalf. What you saw when you arrived was misleading. You will learn why.’
The Runners were not hoodwinked by the sudden change of attitude. They stepped into the house with their suspicions intact.
It was a revelation for Abel Mundy. During their long discussion of his play, not a single voice had been raised. Instead of being compelled to defend his work, he’d been given praise and encouragement. The gathering doubts about his future as a playwright were soon dispelled. He was given the validation for which he’d yearned. Benjamin Tregarne’s comments were not without criticism but they were put to Mundy so politely and presented so persuasively that they didn’t feel in the least like censure or disapproval. They were sensible suggestions for improving something that already had great value.
The three of them were in the room in Tregarne’s house where he’d worked for so many years. It was in a state of chaos: books, newspapers and sheet music were scattered everywhere. The desk was awash with correspondence. Shelves groaned under the weight of dusty tomes. Only the two pianos and the harpsichord were free of clutter. Given the fact that his comic operas were events of continuous merriment that catered unapologetically for the coarser elements in the audience as well as for the more discerning, Mundy had expected Tregarne to be a man of Falstaffian girth and gross appetites. In fact, he was a small, skinny, wizened creature with a gleaming bald pate and an expressive face. He had a pleasing West Country burr.
‘There you have it, Mr Mundy,’ he said in conclusion. ‘You’ve created something that will delight a London audience and live in its memory for many a day. Congratulations, my friend!’
‘Coming from you, sir,’ said Mundy, ‘that’s high praise, indeed.’
‘We playwrights must stick together.’
‘I find that writing is a profession that isolates me from everyone else.’
‘That’s a mistake,’ warned Tregarne. ‘The bustling streets of London gave me my material. All the characters I brought to life were based on people I’d actually met or seen walking past me. I’d had enough of isolation in Cornwall. Our cottage was ten miles from the nearest village. I couldn’t wait to find an excuse to come here. It was a form of liberation.’
‘I’d find a cottage in the country very appealing.’
‘Stay close to human beings. You can’t write plays about cows and sheep.’
‘That’s true,’ said Fleet, chortling.
He got up to signal that it was time to leave. After effusive thanks to their host, the two men left the house with a sense of satisfaction. Mundy felt that he’d achieved most. His play had been applauded by a master of his craft and Tregarne had even been kind enough to suggest changes and refinements that the playwright accepted without a murmur. Incorporated into The Piccadilly Opera along with some new ariettas, they would add pace, definition and spirit.
For his part, Fleet was trying to conceal his excitement. Without realising it, Mundy had agreed to almost all the changes first mooted by Hannah Granville. Since they were voiced by a famous playwright, and couched in extravagant praise, Mundy didn’t recognise them for what they were. The strategy was the last throw of the dice for the theatre manager. Tregarne might yet be his salvation.
Rollo Winters had an existence that suited him perfectly. Since the House of Commons was well endowed with supplies of alcohol, he was able to drift from one place to the other to exchange gossip and relish the latest scandal. When he was not in Parliament, he moved through a succession of favourite watering holes, always ending up at his club in Albemarle Street. It was there that Paul Skillen found him for the second time. Nursing a brandy, Winters had sunk into his favourite chair.
‘Good day to you, sir,’ said Paul, sitting beside him.
‘Goodbye is more appropriate,’ said the other, tartly. ‘I’ve no wish to talk to you, sir.’
‘But I bring you news of a friend of yours.’
‘And who is that?’
‘A gentleman named Rawdon Carr.’
‘Yes,’ admitted Winters. ‘I know him well.’
‘I’ve just come from his house,’ explained Paul. ‘One of the servants told me of his devotion to his club. When he’d celebrated rather too much, apparently, Mr Carr sometimes spent the night here.’
‘We’ve all done that. It’s a privilege of membership.’
‘Then it’s strange he should abandon it so lightly.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mr Carr has left London for good, it seems, and nobody has any idea where he went. Is that the kind of eccentric behaviour you expect from him?’
‘No, it isn’t. Rawdon is a sound man – intelligent, reliable and generous to a fault. I’ve spent many a happy evening at a dining table with him. Where can he possibly have gone?’
‘I was hoping that you might have some idea of that, sir.’
Winters became cautious. ‘What’s your interest in him, Mr Skillen?’
‘You might say that it was financial.’
‘Rawdon owes you money?’
‘Quite the reverse,’ said Paul. ‘I’m in a position to put some his way. Last time we met, we talked of Mr Bowerman’s murder. I’ve been informed by his lawyer that his client named me as one of his executors. I therefore had the chance of an early peep at his last will and testament. Mr Carr is a beneficiary.’
‘How much will he get?’
‘It’s a tidy amount, Mr Winters. I wanted to confide the good news to him but I can’t do that if he’s left the capital. The lawyer will be unable to get in touch with him as well. If the money is not claimed by a certain time, it will be forfeited.’
‘
We can’t have that happening,’ said Winters.
‘I agree.’
‘And it’s a substantial amount, you say?’
‘Mr Bowerman was a wealthy man.’
‘Let me think for a moment …’
The politician had another drink to stimulate his brain, then began to pick his way through a veritable forest of memories. Having expected to be thrown out of the club, Paul had done better than he’d hoped. Winters had actually believed his story. After a lengthy period of meditation, the man sat up and jabbed a finger.
‘He did once say something to me.’
‘What was that, sir?’
‘Well, we were talking about places to which we’d care to retire. I cited this club because it fulfils all my needs except that of ready access to amenable women. Rawdon wanted to go much further afield. He told me that he was always drawn to Scotland.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Rawdon was born there. His parents brought him south when he was five and he’s always nurtured a fondness for his birthplace.’
‘Where exactly was it?’
‘Edinburgh – he thinks it’s the most beautiful city in the world.’
When the boat left the Thames Estuary, it came out into choppier water for a while. It hugged the coast as it sailed northwards. It was a relatively small vessel but large enough to carry its two passengers in comfort and complete safety. Relaxing in their cabin, Rawdon Carr and his companion were still heady with success.
‘When will they realise what’s happened?’ she asked.
‘Letters will reach them tomorrow. I gave orders that they should be delivered first thing. I want the information to bring them fully awake.’
‘That was very naughty of you, Rawdon.’
‘I’ve had a lot of time to plan this, my love.’
‘Oh!’ she cried, embracing him. ‘Is there anything sweeter than revenge?’
‘They both deserve it, Edith.’
‘I’m just glad that I was able to do my share.’
Edith Loveridge was also glad that her real name had been restored to her. While she enjoyed posing as Hester Mallory or as Arabella Kenyon, she was happy that she was now with someone who knew and loved her as Edith Loveridge.
‘Your contribution was unparalleled,’ he told her. ‘I was able to trick them into letting me invest all the money we got from the last time Laetitia used her charms on someone, leaving Stephen to kill the man in a duel. They trusted me completely. But only you could have forged their share certificates. Neither of them realises that they have worthless pieces of paper. I’d love to be there when they discover that their investment never actually existed.’
‘That will wipe the arrogant sneer off Stephen’s face.’
‘Laetitia is the one I’ll enjoy wounding most. There was a time when I adored that woman, Edith, and she gave me to believe that my attentions were welcome. When she turned on me so viciously,’ he went on, ‘I was mortified. From that moment on, I was thinking of getting even with her one day.’
‘It was the same with Stephen. His treatment of me was not simply cruel. It was downright barbaric. He led me on with a promise of marriage then tossed me aside when he found someone else.’
‘We should be grateful to them, really.’
‘Never!’ she decreed.
‘Because they rejected you and me, they actually brought us together.’
He kissed and caressed her for several minutes and they forgot all about the lurching movements of the boat. Carr then told her that the most difficult part of the exercise was to convince them that she had died in France. He’d also had to replace Edith in their minds with another possible suspect.
‘Her name was Eleanor Gold and Stephen cast her brutally aside.’
‘That’s exactly what he does.’
‘I claimed that I had men out looking for her but that was a lie to deceive them. Because of the way I’d served them in the past, they believed me. For two intelligent people, they were so easy to manipulate.’
‘What if they follow us to Scotland?’
‘There isn’t the slightest possibility of that, Edith.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, we’ve covered our tracks far too well.’
‘Stephen might have heard you talking about Edinburgh.’
‘I took great care never to mention my love of the city,’ he said, ‘and besides, neither he nor that venomous sister of his will be in a position to follow us. As well as sending letters to them, I’ve been writing to someone else.’
‘Who is that?’
‘I’ve sent word to the chief magistrate in Bow Street. Playing down my own part in the affair, I told him what Stephen and Laetitia had done between them to Mark Bowerman and to his predecessor. That should be enough to hang the both of them.’
‘You’ve thought of everything, Rawdon.’
‘I did it all for you, my love. As a result of hard work, I’ve accumulated a large amount of capital and your forays into the banking system in London and elsewhere have brought in even more. We’ll be able to live in style, Edith.’ He kissed her again. ‘Meanwhile, Stephen and Laetitia will be dangling from the gallows.’
Charlotte had played the piano until her fingers began to ache. Though it was the same melody time and again, she didn’t complain. The song never lost its appeal. Over her friend’s shoulder, Hannah studied the notes once more and looked for ways to improve her rendition. She now knew the lyrics by heart.
‘Let’s try it again,’ she said.
‘You’ve already sung it fifteen or twenty times, Hannah.’
‘I’m still feeling my way through it.’
‘But it sounds wonderful to me.’
‘Play it once more.’
‘If this really is the last time, I will.’
The moment her fingertips touched the keys, however, Charlotte was forced to stop. After a tap on the door, one of the servants came in with a small parcel. She handed it over before going out again. Charlotte opened the parcel and marvelled at what she found inside.
‘It’s another song from Mr Tregarne,’ she said, ‘and it’s dedicated to you.’
Back at the gallery, Peter Skillen explained what his brother had done. Ackford was quick to praise Paul for his enterprise but less than enthusiastic about the conclusion drawn by him. He wrinkled his brow before speaking.
‘Just because he likes Edinburgh,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t mean that Mr Carr has actually gone there. I’ve spent the last twenty years wanting to live on the north Devon coast but the closest I’ve ever got to it is here.’
‘You don’t have the same urgency to leave, Gully.’
‘I agree,’ said Huckvale. ‘Mr Carr must know that those two men have been arrested. He’ll realise we’ve guessed who hired them.’
‘In that case, he might flee from London,’ conceded Ackford, ‘but why make for Scotland? It’s too far and too uncivilised.’
Peter laughed. ‘They’re not all wild and hairy Highlanders.’
‘I rubbed shoulders with a Scots regiment in America. They were very wild and very hairy, Peter, and they fought with real ferocity.’
‘What about his friends?’ asked Huckvale.
‘What friends, Jem?’
‘Mr Carr’s friends – will they make a run for it themselves?’
‘They won’t see the need,’ said Peter. ‘As far as they’re concerned, they’re safe enough. Paul gave Miss Somerville a nasty shock by mentioning Mr Bowerman’s will. What she doesn’t know is that we’ve worked out the murderous game she and Hamer have been playing together. They’ll stay where they are because they think they’re safe. It’s only Carr who has to get out quickly.’
‘I still think he’d go to ground here,’ said Ackford. ‘That’s what I’d do.’
‘No, it isn’t. You’d run off to the north Devon coast.’
They shared a laugh then continued to speculate on Carr’s likely movements. Huckvale had the stronges
t motive to catch up with him. He could still feel the ropes eating into his wrists and ankles. He was about to recount his ordeal yet again when Paul arrived. They looked up hopefully at him.
‘Well?’ asked Huckvale. ‘What did you find out?’
‘I was right,’ said Paul. ‘He’s gone to Scotland.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I first thought that, if he was making a permanent move, he’d have a lot of luggage and travel by coach. But there’s another way to go such a distance. That’s why I scoured the docks for details of any vessels sailing for Scotland. In the end, I found one.’
‘Was Mr Carr aboard?’ asked Ackford.
‘The old salt I spoke to didn’t know his name but he described a man who sounds very much like Carr. He gave me a more detailed description of the woman who accompanied him,’ said Paul, ‘because she was very striking.’
‘Was it Miss Somerville?’ asked Huckvale.
‘No, but it was someone equally beautiful and well dressed. Like him, she was travelling with a fair amount of luggage. The two of them are sailing all the way up to Scotland. I’m sure they gave false names to the captain of the boat. I’m also sure that the man must have been Rawdon Carr.’
‘What about the woman, Paul?’
‘I haven’t a clue who she might be.’
‘I have,’ said Peter, thinking about the forged letter that had lured Bowerman to his death. ‘I’d never have connected them before but I can see now that they might be well suited. Carr is travelling with Mrs Hester Mallory or Miss Arabella Kenyon or, to be more exact, with both of them simultaneously.’
The pleasure of meeting Benjamin Tregarne had inspired Mundy. Throughout rehearsals, he’d had his talent called into question and it had sapped his strength and confidence. The time spent with Tregarne had restored both. When he returned to his lodging, he wanted to tell his wife all about the meeting but she was not there. Instead, therefore, he sat down at a table with his copy of the play and began to go through it line by line. There had already been a number of minor modifications. It was only when he went through each scene that he realised that what Tregarne had proposed was really quite radical. It involved cutting favourite passages and even losing some characters. The points where ariettas would be introduced were well chosen, he could not dispute that, but some of his beloved dialogue would have to be sacrificed in order to insert them.
A Date with the Executioner Page 27