"We're looking for a ginger-haired fellow, one Eustace Tucker known as Stacks, that we believe is staying here, got a sling on one arm," he said slipping her a guinea.
"Second door, third floor, Sir! He didn't give that name, though! I don’t want no trouble or mess, mind you, sir," replied the dame bobbing a small curtsey as she pocketed the coin. Four men tiptoed up the stairs and found the door to be locked.
"Don't want no mess!" muttered Charlie, removing a set of picklocks from his pocket, he silently unlocked the door and they entered the room. The chamber was a generously sized room furnished with large, heavy, dark-wood furniture, consisting of wardrobe, dressing table, bureau, two upright chairs, one armchair and a curtained bed. The curtains were pulled tightly round the bed but a raucous snoring from within rattled everything in the room. Stacks was sleeping contentedly the sleep of the wicked and unjust, but was about to get a very rude awakening.
Two pairs of arms pulled back the curtains and two pairs of arms pinioned him to the bed. The abruptly woken Stacks wearing only a linen nightshirt and a generous bandage on his right arm gave very little effective resistance. A kerchief was forced into his mouth and tied tightly. Then a flour sack was upended over his head and he was bundled out of bed and down the stairs and into the hackney carriage in his nightshirt. Charlie Griggs lit a candle and searched the room. He found a few assorted coins, a small stack of clothing, but no papers and little of interest. He piled the man's belongings into another flour sack, blew out the candle and followed the others downstairs. Tipping his cap to the landlady, he joined the others in the hackney which set off at once for Whitechapel.
Stacks was tied securely to a chair in a large, chilly stall of the hackney carriage stables, where the flour sack and gag were removed. His eyes were streaming with tears from the light after remaining so long in the dark. All he could see, at first, were a number of large dark shapes looming over him. He was absolutely terrified, not knowing which of his sins or enemies had found him out. He was sobbing in fear and dread of what was to come.
Charlie Griggs eventually spoke "Who paid you to kill the earl?" was all he said quietly to Stacks.
“I never killed no earl, I dunno what you talking about, let me go, it weresn’t me!" screamed Stacks somewhat intelligibly.
"How did you hurt your arm, Eustace?” Charlie continued affably.
"Slipped and fell! What's it to you? Lemme go now!" Stacks replied belligerently trying to bluff his way out.
“I reckon if we were to remove that there bandage we'd find some chirurgeon's fancy stitching sewing up a nasty cut, a sword cut. I reckon the runners might be interested to know about it, so I think you'd better start coming up with some answers, real quick and polite like."
"Dunno nuffing!"
At which point Charlie emptied a bucket of water over Stack's head and then replaced the flour sack over the spluttering dripping wet felon.
"Those leather straps you're bound with, Eustace, weren't tanned correctly. They have got a nasty habit of shrinking when they are wet."
“We'll just leave you for a bit to dry out, I bet they'll be hurting that nasty cut of yours quite badly soon. If you still don't know anything then we'll have to hand you over to the runners, there's a bit of a reward I hear. It shouldn't be too long before you’re swinging from a rope at Newgate. You think it over, Eustace; we'll be back in an hour or so if we don't forget about you."
Eustace sat shivering in the glacial October air, the empty stables being very frigid. He could hear the movements of animals and men in the background, but although he yelled through the flour sack, no one came to release him. He felt very alone and cold, sitting tied to the chair in his wet nightshirt. He tried wobbling the chair to get it to overbalance in the hope of loosening his bonds, but that hurt his sore arm considerably and he soon gave up the attempt. He sat slumped in the chair disconsolately. The realisation that no one was going to help him, even if they heard him, made his hopes of escape seem unrealistic even to him.
Meanwhile Edward was sitting down with Charlie in front of a roaring fire to a generously proportioned breakfast in the cosy parlour of Charlie Griggs’ home, which adjoined the Livery Stables. The meal, cooked and served by Charlie’s rib, who was considerably younger than her weather-beaten spouse, was truly excellent. Edward found himself eating every scrap offered, despite the hour being long before his usual breakfast time. Mrs Elizabeth Griggs, Edward observed was a buxom lass with freckles, rosy cheeks, carroty curls and a very pretty dimple. Charlie had done well for himself.
Her dark blue dress was as neat as nine-pence covered with a brilliantly white starched apron and a lacy mob cap adorned her brilliant curls. She bobbed the earl a curtsey before offering tea to complete their repast. Timothy had been left to mind Stacks and was seated round the corner from him, quietly mending some harness and ignoring his intermittent cries for release. As Stacks' teeth chattered with cold fearing what worse was to befall him; Edward and Charlie were comfortably discussing the dispatches from Spain and reliving old battles whilst blowing a cloud and supping their tea in toasty contentment. Edward dismissed his qualms about their treatment of Eustace, knowing their prisoner had been prepared to bash his own head in, and Edward suspected Eustace had been paid for and planned his murder.
When they finally returned to the stable; they found Stacks was more co-operative and very frightened. The time alone, cold, wet and in the dark had served the purpose of triggering his recalcitrant memory and his belligerence seemed to have been replaced, by an unctuous desire to please. Edward stood out of sight where he could hear what was said.
“Who paid you to kill the earl, Stacks?” Charlie asked in a relatively friendly tone.
“I dunno, fiend seize it, please I’m beggin’ you, let me go.”
“You tell what you know and maybe you won’t end up swimming in the Fleet,” Charlie insisted, as he took out a large knife and began examining the edge on it. It seemed that was all the prompting Stacks needed.
“I was on the rocks like, pockets to let.” Stacks paused as if hoping for some sympathy. Charlie waved the knife in his direction, too close to Stacks for his comfort, as he tried to shrink away from it.
“I met this fly, dirty dish three weeks ago. Offered me fifty guineas, to put some gennelman to bed. I was to find a couple of bruisers and wait for further instructions, visiting the “H’old Doctor Butler’s ‘ead” in Moorgate daily at noon for messages.”
“”What did this ‘ere cove look like?” prompted Charlie.
“Middleish, middle tall, dressed like a carrion ‘unter, ready to lead a fun’ral procession, all in black. Whey faced like a sailor ‘oo’s been in port too long. Brown ‘air and Friday faced, guessed he might be a furrener, talked a bit funny, like a froglander.” Stacks fell back into silence, looking fearful and hopeful at the same time.
“Was he a gentleman? Was there anything unusual about him that might make him recognisable?”
“Weresn’t no nob, nor shag-bag, neither. ‘Is togs worth some blunt, but ain’t no swell cove. Stacks only does some jumping or a bit of diving. I should’na listened to’ im, but I was bush’d an ‘ee offered fifty gold boys!” Stacks offered by way of justification.
“’E give me no names. So’s that day, I goes to the Butler’s ‘ead and the cove says get pops or tools and bring my mates. Where we gonna get pops? Make it look like a robbery he says, take his fambles, montra and haddock. I was ‘oping for a haddock full of beans. ‘E took us in a rotan to Black Friars, where we waited shivering round this nyp shop for a couple of ‘ours, then this cove pointed out this flash cove. We followed ‘im, “Erb and I’s feinted and he draws ‘is poker, then Tommy walloped him over the jobbernole. Then that gentry-mort grabs ‘is Bilboa, chivs Tommy, and slices me. Now Tommy’s pegged out. Lemme go, please. I dunno no more.”
Charlie moved over to Edward and whispered an explanation. “He says the man was foreign, sounded Dutch, but I can’t get much of a de
scription out of him. Dressed all in black, expensive cloth, but not fashionably cut. He says he’s a burglar or pick pocket and the dibs weren’t in tune, complains he wouldn’t have been tempted, if he’d been plump in the pocket. The foreigner took them in a carriage to Black Friars and pointed you out. He said to make it look like a robbery and to take your rings, watch and purse. I don't think we're likely to get any more out of him, but I'll make enquiries at the Old Doctor Butler’s Head as to whether anyone knows the gentleman. What do you want to do with him? Take him to the runners, hand him to the press-gang, or perhaps you’d prefer him to disappear?"
"Much though I might prefer him found floating in the Thames, I don't think it will answer! There's a small chance that this "gentleman" might contact him again. I think he should be let go, but kept under watch just in case this "gentleman" turns up."
So Stacks’ person was untied from the chair only to find himself rebound, gagged and flour sacked. He was bundled back into a hackney and driven to the docks where he was unceremoniously dumped with the sack of his belongings still dressed in his damp nightshirt. To cat-calls and guffaws from dockers nearby, he hurriedly got himself dressed and stumbled away with his sack. He failed to notice that one of Charlie's drivers had been dropped off around the corner and as he set off, followed him carefully at a short distance away.
Chapter Seven - Chercher la femme
Edward returned home to Grosvenor Square, accompanied by young Timothy, with a lot of thinking to do. He now knew someone had definitely hired the footpads to kill him, but he was no closer to finding out whom. How had the gentleman known he would be at the Inn in Black Friars and what did his enemy hope to accomplish with his death? But both questions remained unanswered, Edward felt frustrated at being unable to fight back against such an underhand foe. Edward had not been informed of their chosen drinking venue until long after the mill, but the others had apparently known of their destination earlier.
Worst of all, he found himself wondering if the information as to where they would finish their outing, had been sold or given to this foreigner, by one of his friends and fellow officers. He hated himself for considering even the mere possibility one of his friends should have betrayed his whereabouts deliberately and found himself hoping the information, had been accidentally revealed to some spying eavesdropper.
Putting these unpleasant matters to one side, Edward gave instructions for horses to be saddled for himself, Timothy, and another groom and went away to change into his riding costume. On arriving at his stables to saddle up, he found Hodgson himself waiting for him, holding out a leather strap that looked like a saddle girth that appeared to have been almost cut through in the middle.
“I checked the saddle myself only two days ago, my lord, because I noticed a few frayed stitches and repaired it. See here are my new stitches,” he pointed to a line of stitches in slightly paler thread. “You said to be special vigilant, so I’ve been checking everything myself,” he said aggrieved that despite his care, the strap had been tampered with. The damage to the girth was no accident, but was clearly intended to cause one!
“Thank you Hodgson, you have done well to bring it to my notice. That is obviously not normal wear. Stay watchful and keep a note of every visitor to the stables, get one of the lads to also watch for visitors to the kitchens, no matter how regularly they call.” Edward wanted to know exactly who could have access to the stables; and to make sure that the next attempt on his life was also unsuccessful.
Edward was exasperated at their lack of success in finding the villain who had ordered the attack on him. He tried to exorcise his bad mood by taking a long ride. His annoyance would have been compounded, if he had been aware, that Sir Robert had arrived at Claudette's with every intention of besieging Madelaine with pecuniary offers. Madelaine was present at Claudette's, but she was busy pinning together an array of new frocks for Miss Weathingston's trousseau in the work room above the salon. The attractive young lady hovering behind Claudette was a red head with a sweet smile and a retrousée nose, a new employee who had been summoned to replace Annabel.
“Tool the curricle around and pick me up in half an hour, Shaw,” Sir Robert ordered his groom to drive his curricle around, while he strolled along glancing at the windows of the various emporiums, until he reached Claudette's salon. Examining the window display with an air of detachment, he tried to catch sight of the "diamond" within the modiste's shop. Failing to identify the description he had received of Madelaine within the shop, he moved on seeking a lady of his acquaintance, who was visiting the establishment with the intention of offering his escort.
Amazingly this stratagem was almost immediately successful; at least the first part of his plan was quickly followed up, when he espied Lady Barbara Ardleigh, descending from her carriage accompanied by her dresser, intent on entering Claudette's. Speeding his steps back towards Lady Barbara's carriage, Sir Robert managed to come abreast of her, before she had completed giving her instructions to her driver. He doffed his beaver and made a flourishing leg towards the lady. Lady Barbara, a statuesque brunette who had been the reigning beauty some ten years previously, was flattered by the aging roué’s attentions and willingly accepted his offer of escort and advice on the ordering of a new ball gown for a Christmas Ball at Lord and Lady Marshall's.
However on entering the shop Lady Barbara was entertained by Claudette and a small brunette, whom she addressed as Nicola, whilst Sir Robert politely offered his opinions on the choice of samples, preferring a pale turquoise toile threaded with silver threads to a plain crimson satin. His support for flamboyant sleeves a la marmelouk was less successful and Lady Barbara wisely selected a simple puff sleeve with double ruching in a matching silver lace that had come with the fabric. Lady Barbara waved away offers that a similar style should be modelled for her and Sir Robert's attempts at persuasion met on deaf ears.
Having swiftly ordered the ball gown and a couple of elegant day dresses, Lady Barbara sallied forth to be handed into her carriage by a disappointed Sir Robert. His excuse for being present at Claudette's in order to accost the beautiful Madelaine was now driving away. His curricle promptly rounded the corner and pulled up beside him, and as it was far too cold to lurk around the street all day, he climbed aboard and drove off down to St James’s Street, where he was soon ensconced at Brooks with some cronies, uncorking their first bottle of the day. But not before instructing his groom to bring the curricle around for five o'clock so he could drive past in the hope of catching sight of the modiste's employees, when they closed shop at six.
Instructing his groom to walk the horses on returning for his second attempt, Sir Robert waited across the road for the shop to shut and the girls to set off home. Henri arrived shortly after Sir Robert was set down and waited at the back door to accompany Madelaine to the salle. Madelaine left by the back door with the other seamstresses whilst Nicola left by the front with Madame Claudette. Sir Robert caught sight of the group of girls wearily wishing a giggling good night to each other before separating, to go in different directions to their dwellings, but they were all closely wrapped against the winter's chill and Madelaine's bonnet, so despised by Edward, carefully covered her primrose hair.
Sir Robert crossed the road and set off to pursue one young lady, but when he caught up with her discovered that whilst she had an admirable figure, her nose was very prominent. Her hair was a mousy light brown, and apart from the nose she could have been described, as having an agreeable complexion, but she certainly would not to be counted a diamond of the first water!
Madelaine and Henri had set off at a brisk pace in the opposite direction completely unaware of Sir Robert's dogged pursuit and reached home unmolested, for a pleasant supper and an evening of quiet labour. Henri sat in the kitchen preparing vegetables for a potage for the following day, before giving his domain a thorough cleaning. Madelaine finished one of the shirts she had been making, before beginning some embroidery for the yoke of a christening gown she
had been commissioned to make. Louis went through his accounts again, somewhat heartened, that he had acquired a small group of new pupils. Whilst still unable to pay all his debts, he had managed to reduce their number and total.
Sir Robert might have felt that he had been discreet, in his quest for the mysterious diamond, but Claudette had been suspicious of him, from when his eyes had roved around her establishment whilst supposedly escorting Lady Barbara. Claudette was a very astute woman and managed to put two and two together very quickly, reaching a conclusion that he had been seeking out Madelaine. Nor had Claudette taken to Sir Robert, finding his gushing charm much too slimy.
His outfit of mustard yellow trousers and puce coloured coat with large brass buttons, whilst expertly cut, was perhaps more suited to a younger man, being a little too flamboyant and up-to-the-minute for a man of well over forty. Claudette was usually considered a good judge of character. She decided that she not like Sir Robert, nor trust him, so she chose to warn Madelaine of the rake’s suspected interest. When the next day he strolled past the windows of the shop once more, Claudette made it her business to point him out from the window of the upstairs work room and they watched together, as he walked up and down the street, going past the shop no less than five times, before his groom and curricle arrived to carry him away.
Claire, the girl Sir Robert had followed the night before, reported to Claudette what had previously seemed unimportant to her, confirming that his behaviour was definitely suspicious. So when Henri arrived to meet Madelaine that evening, he was summoned in by Claudette.
“There was a suspicious gentleman hanging about yesterday, Henri. He’s lurking at the rear of the shop, he accosted Claire after work then and I think he’s after Madelaine. Best be careful,” she suggested.
The Fencing Master's Daughter Page 6