The Jacobite Murders

by G. M. Best

  ‘I’m not a faint-hearted woman, sir, and Miss Grey made me most welcome here. I’ll not see her body disposed of without paying my last respects. I want to see for myself what has happened to her.’

  ‘No, my lady, do not do this,’ begged Sarah Darr from behind her mistress. ‘The murderer may still be in the house. Let us return to the safety of our rooms until we know for sure that he has gone.’

  Lady Overbury ignored this entreaty and stepped inside the housekeeper’s room. The body of Miss Grey lay face upwards on the floor in the narrow space between the bed and a small wardrobe that stood against one wall. Blood seemed to be splattered everywhere in the room but its source was obvious – the poor woman’s throat had been cut almost from ear to ear and the gaping wound looked like some blackened grisly smile. Judging from the look in her eyes, death had come quickly because they seemed to stare out with shocked surprise.

  ‘I am pretty sure that she was seized from behind – doubtless after a brief struggle,’ commented Fielding. ‘That would explain the noise you heard and the subsequent scream.’ Lady Overbury turned her back on the gruesome sight while Fielding bent over the corpse to study it more closely. ‘The wound is deep and, as far as I can judge, very clean, the product of a very sharp blade wielded by a very strong arm. If it is any comfort, I do not think she suffered much pain. She would have died almost instantaneously.’

  ‘That does not make this crime less heinous, sir,’ Lady Overbury replied, in a voice that betrayed her outrage at what had happened.

  ‘I entirely agree and I surmise that the murderer heard the sound of you coming upstairs and locked the door, thus preventing your entrance and his disclosure.’

  ‘And he unlocked the door and made his escape from the rear of the house while we were fetching help?’

  ‘It would appear so, unless he has hidden in one of the other rooms.’

  ‘But why was this man in the house and what possibly can have been his motive in coming up here to kill Miss Grey?’ puzzled Lady Overbury.

  ‘It does seem strange,’ agreed Fielding. ‘There is nothing of worth to steal up here and any normal intruder would have chosen to remain at the lower levels, especially as the further he entered the house the more he risked detection.’

  ‘You are right, sir. The murderer’s chance of being discovered and caught was immensely increased by coming to this attic.’

  ‘It sounds to me as if he knew there was only the housekeeper up here and no other servants,’ responded Fielding. ‘I can only surmise, Lady Overbury, that Miss Grey knew the murderer and that she had invited him upstairs for reasons that I will not choose to voice in your presence.’

  His reply outraged her and she snapped back, ‘Although our acquaintance was short, I can assure you that Miss Grey was no strumpet, sir, but a good woman. She has been in the service of Sir Robert for many years and I know he regards her most highly. There must be another explanation than the one you so cruelly imply!’

  The look in his eyes indicated that he did not entirely believe her. ‘Let me notify the authorities for you while you return to your room with your maid and get dressed. Please do not move outside your room until I return and tell you it is safe to do so. I will leave a servant from next door to keep watch outside your door.’

  Lady Overbury assented reluctantly. She took one last look at the unfortunate housekeeper’s body and commented, ‘I hope that we can bring her murderer to justice.’ Then she went back downstairs. As her maid helped her dress in her room she solemnly vowed that she would not rest until the killer had been caught and she had vindicated Miss Grey’s character. It was bad enough that the housekeeper’s life had been so savagely squandered without the wicked world also destroying her reputation. She was sure that whoever had killed her had entered her room uninvited. The question was why? And was the murderer the same person who had stared in at the drawing-room window earlier that night? If so, what had he been seeking in the house? And how had she heard the murder take place? It would have taken a very substantial noise to wake her from her slumber and yet there had been nothing in Miss Grey’s room to show that there had been a struggle of any significance. Moreover, her bedroom was sufficiently far away from that of the housekeeper to have made hearing her scream difficult. The whole thing seemed inexplicable.

  By six o’clock in the morning Henry Fielding had arranged for the body of the housekeeper to be removed and for the floor to be scrubbed clean so that no trace of the brutal murder remained. He had also embarked on a closer inspection of the entire house from the kitchen to the attic rooms in the company of Joseph Graves, who had turned up for his morning duties. This had not been a happy exercise because the latter had been visibly shaken by the housekeeper’s murder and he kept up a doleful monologue about how an evil spirit must have entered the house. The search had eventually proved pointless. Every room that they entered appeared to be in good order and there was nothing to indicate a break-in or to shed light on what the murderer might have been seeking. Fielding wondered whether the bedrooms that were locked on the second floor might reveal some clue, but Graves had no key to unlock them and none could be found on Miss Grey’s bunch of keys. Lady Overbury refused to grant permission for them to break down the locked doors, saying that she lacked the authority to damage Sir Robert’s property in such a fashion when there was no certainty that this would produce any further evidence.

  Fielding did not feel strongly enough to urge her to reconsider. Instead he sent Graves to assist Sarah Darr prepare a breakfast for everyone. While they were waiting for this he and Lady Overbury talked together in the drawing room. Once again she was struck by how very old he looked for a man who was not yet forty. ‘My dear Lady Overbury, your face is like an open book,’ he said. ‘I can see that you think I am a shadow of my former self.’

  ‘No, Mr Fielding, I assure you that is not the case.’

  ‘You were never a good liar,’ he chided. ‘If you think I look ill now, you should have seen me when I first arrived in Bath. I could scarce eat or drink without being sick and my gouty foot prevented me venturing outside for more than a few yards at a time. Now my stomach is much restored and the only gout I have remaining is in the great toe of my right foot.’

  ‘Are the waters then so good?’

  ‘If used properly, for some they act like the ancient River Lethe. They wash away all pain and suffering. And I have a good doctor in Dr Oliver, who has lived in Bath many years and who is employed by the best of families. During my first week here I had the mineral water brought to my lodgings because I could neither walk nor bear the pain of being carried. However, after a week I was able to walk a few turns around my room with the help of a stick, and, a couple of days later, I began my current regime. I use the Cross Bath at seven or eight o’clock each morning and I go to the King’s Bath at twelve. I am now also able to eat a good dinner again providing I drink a glass of the water two hours afterwards.’

  ‘I am pleased to hear that the reputation of Bath is so justified,’ observed Lady Overbury.

  ‘Yes, but even in my recovered state I am not the man I once was,’ he continued, ‘and there is good reason for that. You see, after my career as a dramatist ended, I was forced to take up law and my wife and children lived in virtual penury whilst I scraped what living I could make. I had to watch the health and beauty of my beloved wife Charlotte decline every day.’ His gaze was filled with anguish and Lady Overbury remembered the winter of 1734 when Fielding had first told her of his forthcoming marriage to Charlotte Cradock. At that time she had been renowned for her beauty and the sweetness of her smile. It must have been terrible for him to see her wither in the face of privation.

  ‘I am sorry that I did not know of the straits into which you had fallen or I would have come to your aid,’ she replied, with genuine sorrow at the poverty into which he and his wife had fallen. ‘But surely your emergence in recent years as a successful novelist must have made things easier for you and your fa
mily. I was delighted when I discovered four years ago that you were the anonymous author of the novel Shamela, and I have read with immense pleasure both of your succeeding books, Joseph Andrews and The History of the Life of the Late Mr Jonathan Wild.’ This was no idle flattery on her part. She had found them skilfully written and very entertaining, and quite unlike anything else that she had read.

  ‘Unfortunately fate is not kind and the success of my new career as a novelist came too late to save Charlotte. Last autumn I brought her back to Bath. We had fond memories of this place because we were married in St Mary Charlcombe, a tiny church that nestles in the hills above the city. We hoped in vain that the waters might prove beneficial.’ His eyes took on a haunted look as the memory of that time flooded over him. ‘Her health took a sudden turn for the worse and she died in my arms almost a year ago. I had her body taken back to London.’ He stared at Lady Overbury, absorbing her sympathy. ‘I miss her terribly, Lady Overbury. I do not mind confessing to you that I would have long ago committed suicide had not I had the support of my sister Sarah.’

  Lady Overbury expressed her deep regret at his loss and he graciously accepted her condolences. Beneath the ravages of time the evidence of his innate charm and good manners remained. ‘Enough about my troubles,’ he said, trying to rally his spirits. ‘It is more important that I help you in your situation than dwell on my past. Do you recognize this?’ He held out to her a small metal button on which was carved the symbol of a fleur-de-lis. ‘It was found grasped in Miss Grey’s dead hand. I think she must have snapped it off her murderer’s coat in the brief struggle before she was killed. I fear it is the only clue we have.’

  ‘Other than it is the symbol associated with the French royal family, it means nothing to me.’

  ‘Nor yet to me. But I am making enquiries because there are few in England who would choose to wear such an emblem at a time when we are at war with France. I have a brother who is a magistrate in London and he has many useful contacts who may know about these buttons and who might wear them.’

  ‘I appreciate your thoroughness in this matter,’ she acknowledged.

  ‘Because we have found nothing to make sense of what has happened, I think it would be prudent if you left this house and hired alternative lodgings,’ continued Fielding. ‘If the murderer was not known to the housekeeper, then he must have broken in with the intention of finding something very specific. He may or may not have got what he wanted. If he did not, then he might return and you or your maid could become his next victim.’

  ‘I will not be driven out of this house by any man!’ protested Lady Overbury, battling to keep her voice steady.

  Fielding raised his eyebrows but did not seek to persuade her to change her mind. He could see from her face that her determination to stay was very unlikely to waiver. ‘Then permit me to offer you all the assistance that I can. I will find you an alternative housekeeper and I suggest in the first instance that I also lend you two young men of my acquaintance so that there is someone in this house to protect you. Their names are Tom Jones and John Burnett. They can sleep upstairs and they can take it in turns to guard you and your maid until this murder is satisfactorily resolved.’

  ‘Sir, I am deeply touched by your kindness and I will not say no to your generous offer.’

  ‘Then I will send the man who has temporarily guarded you to bring Mr Jones and Mr Burnett round immediately. Foreseeing your response, Lady Overbury, I sought their agreement to protect you earlier this morning. They have already packed a few of their possessions. Both are gentlemen, but they are willing to reside temporarily in the servants’ quarters.’

  She smiled. ‘You know me too well, Mr Fielding.’

  ‘I know a courageous woman when I meet one, madam.’ He bowed courteously.

  They adjourned their meeting to eat the breakfast that had been laid out in the dining room while they were speaking. Shortly afterwards Sarah Darr brought in two young men to them. ‘Permit me first,’ said Fielding, ‘to introduce Mr John Burnett, the nephew of Squire Woodforde, who is a wealthy landowner in this part of Somerset and a most kind-hearted and generous friend of mine. And, second, this is Mr Tom Jones, a young man who has benefitted much from the squire’s patronage.’

  The two young men were very different in both their looks and manner. John Burnett had little to commend him physically, though he was dressed in the height of fashion. He was short, of a puny build, and lacked any presence. His black hair was tousled and long and this served only to accentuate his pale, pockmarked face with its broad cheekbones, its long hawk nose and pointed chin. Because he was slightly short-sighted, he had developed a habit of contracting his eyebrows, screwing up his eyes, and pursing his thin-lipped mouth, and this made his appearance even worse. In manner he was old beyond his years and over the next few days Lady Overbury came to appreciate that any easy conversation with him was difficult. Despite the good fortune of his birth, he appeared to bear a grudge against the world for not recognizing his talents. Although he was outwardly sober, discreet and pious, Lady Overbury soon judged Mr Burnett to be shallow and selfish – a man interested only in his own welfare.

  However, her heart immediately warmed to his companion, Tom Jones. He was tall and slender and very handsome in appearance, though his clothes lacked the quality of those worn by his companion. His hair was dark and curly, his eyes were a bright blue, and he had a perpetual smile that lightened the hearts of those around him and gave him an endearing charm. Lady Overbury thought that his intelligent and frank look and rather wild roguish manner reminded her of Henry Fielding when he was a young man. He even had the same air of authority in his voice. She knew instantly that there was not an ounce of malice or viciousness in this young man’s character and she was to discover later that he always got things done without any fuss, although he gave the appearance of being idle and unconcerned.

  After the introductions had been made, Henry Fielding departed, but not before he had urged both of the young men to take great care in guarding the house and told Lady Overbury that she must not hesitate to contact him if she required any further assistance. She thanked him profusely and then asked Joseph Graves to show both of the young men upstairs to the attic rooms so that they could each select a room. She subsequently learned that they had understandably avoided having the room that had been used by Miss Grey.

  It was not long before the presence of the young men gave the household a new shape and Tom Jones’s lively good humour soon helped dismiss much of the gloom that had descended upon the place. Lady Overbury took an early opportunity to find out more about them. ‘Why are you here in Bath?’ she asked curiously. ‘Young gentlemen like you have no need of its waters.’

  John Burnett, as the man of higher rank, replied first. ‘I am here, Lady Overbury, in order to make some useful social contacts prior to undertaking some work for my uncle in London. When I was approached by Mr Fielding to protect you, I willingly agreed because I know that my uncle, Squire Woodforde, sets great store by his friendship with him. My only caveat was that Tom here should accompany me in the task. I did not think your protection warranted only a single volunteer.’

  ‘You are most thoughtful, sir,’ responded Lady Overbury, though she suspected that there was another reason for Burnett’s insistence on having Tom Jones with him - if there were any danger, he would expect his social inferior to face it first. ‘And what about you, Mr Jones?’

  ‘I was only passing through Bath, your ladyship,’ he answered, smiling at her. ‘It was my intention to travel on to Bristol and take ship there for a new life overseas.’

  ‘And what leads you to such a dangerous course of action?’

  ‘My master, Squire Woodforde, has given me money to set me up in America because he no longer wants me to stay in this country.’

  ‘And why does he want you to leave?’

  Tom Jones blushed and Lady Overbury found herself wishing she were twenty years younger. He next exchanged a glance
with his companion as if seeking guidance as to what he should or should not say. There was an uncomfortable pause. ‘Come, sir, you can rely on my integrity,’ interjected his questioner. ‘I will not give away any secret you choose to share with me.’

  ‘Very well, your ladyship, but I hope that what I have to say will not make you reject my role as your protector. Squire Woodforde wants me to leave because of my foolishness.’ Jones hesitated again and then said apologetically, ‘He is rightly angry at the way that I have recently let him down by overstepping the bounds of what is acceptable behaviour in a man in my position.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I’d prefer not to say, madam.’

  ‘He expressed his love for the daughter of one of my uncle’s closest friends,’ interrupted Burnett, eying Jones with a jaundiced eye and smirking. ‘’Twas sheer folly on his part because she is destined for a far better marriage than Tom could ever offer her.’

  ‘And who is this young woman?’ asked Lady Overbury, looking into Tom Jones’s embarrassed face.

  ‘Her name is Miss Sophia Westbrook and I can assure you that she is one of God’s loveliest creations,’ he replied defiantly. ‘She is a young woman of inestimable beauty and worth.’

  ‘And a rich heiress because her father has no son,’ added John Burnett, in a tone that implied his companion had less honourable reasons for being attracted to her.

  ‘And your prospects, Mr Jones, are insufficient to warrant such a marriage?’

  He hung his head rather sheepishly. ‘I have no prospects, Lady Overbury, other than what Squire Woodforde chooses to provide. I owe all that I have to his benevolent nature. He has given me a good education and made me the man I am.’

  Burnett vigorously nodded his head in agreement. ‘My uncle is a good Christian man who is blessed by both fortune and nature, but unfortunately Tom forgot his station in the matter of Miss Westbrook and my uncle was rightly highly displeased. Do you not think, Lady Overbury, that it is vital in these matters to keep to one’s rightful social station?’