by G. M. Best
‘Why an olive tree?’
‘The olive tree is an emblem of peace and plenty.’
Lady Overbury stared again at the fine sculptures and the other intricate carving that surrounded the figures. ‘Is it as beautiful inside as it is out?’ she asked.
‘I am afraid the interior does not match it. The dissolution of the monasteries meant that it was never properly completed. I have been told that the architect intended it to have a beautiful fan-vaulted ceiling but all it possesses is a rather dull wooden one. For that reason I suggest that we should enjoy looking at the rest of the outside first.’ Fielding said this with an ulterior motive. He knew that there were interesting shops in the Orange Grove at the rear of the abbey and he hoped to tempt her to visit some of them and so divert her troubled mind.
His plan failed miserably. The nearest shop belonged to a seal-engraver called Wicksteed and it carried a large stock of china and giftware. Lady Overbury took not the slightest interest in it. Next came a toyman’s called Sperrings and then two shops run by jewelers, one of whom was descended from a French Huguenot called Goulet. She resolutely declined to enter any of them. ‘Can you not see, sir, that I am not in the mood for these or any other shops. When I think of what has happened I cannot enjoy looking at their contents. I have no time for jewellery, however fine it may be, or for anything else you care to show me, be it perfumes and pastries or tinctures and toys or fans and feathered muffs.’
‘Then at least let me tempt you to enter the bookshop of Mr Warriner. It is the largest shop in this row and it has a fine circulating library. You cannot return to the house in Queen Square without something to read,’ said Fielding, fast running out of options that might amuse her.
‘I suppose that might make sense,’ Lady Overbury reluctantly conceded.
‘Bath has two excellent bookshops. This one and one round the corner which is run by Mr Leake in Terrace Walk. I prefer the latter because Mr Leake is the most extraordinary of all the coxcomical fraternity of booksellers and so a man well worth seeing in his own right.’
‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.
‘For two reasons. First, because, having no learning himself, he is resolved to sell it as dear as possible to others. And second because, although he looks upon every customer as a friend, he will only speak to people in rank order. That means, for example, that he will not speak to a marquess whilst a duke is present. How he treats us will therefore depend entirely on who else is already inside his shop.’
Fielding expected her to find this amusing but instead it irritated her. ‘Then I think I will forgo the pleasure of his acquaintance. I am not in the mood for snobbery!’ she muttered. ‘And what you have said makes me also wish to postpone visiting Mr Warriner’s lest he be no better. I am sure I can find something in Sir Robert’s library that will suffice to occupy me.’
Fielding looked at her grim visage and sensed that he had overplayed his hand. ‘As you wish,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘Let us just go inside the abbey for us both to pray.’
Nothing more was said and an uncomfortable silence settled on them as they returned to enter the church. Lady Overbury found the inside far less attractive. The building’s many windows meant that it was exceptionally well lit but the nave was cold and smelly and any grace that the inside might have had was marred by the galleries that ran along its walls and by the timber barrel vaulted ceiling that had replaced the original fan-vaulted design. More to her taste was the richly sculpted stone pulpit and the magnificent east window over the altar. Most people seemed to be using the church merely as a short cut to the Orange Grove and so Lady Overbury chose to make her devotions within a well-proportioned chantry that had the most wonderful delicate carvings of birds and foliage. Fielding waited outside. She sat quietly for a while trying to collect her thoughts and then she prayed most fervently that Miss Grey’s killer might be found and punished.
4
THE MYSTERIOUS INTRUDER
After returning to the house in Queen Square, Lady Overbury said goodbye to Henry Fielding and ate the light supper which had been prepared by her maid. Shortly afterwards she decided to retire very early to bed. She felt exhausted. In part that was a physical reaction to two days of travelling followed by a disrupted night, but in the main it was caused by the emotional impact of the murder. No one attributed any blame to her for Miss Grey’s death, but that did not prevent her feeling partially responsible. She felt somehow that she should have questioned the housekeeper more and so averted the tragedy. It took her quite some time to compose herself enough to fall asleep, but, when she did, she slept heavily. It was five in the morning when she was woken by a loud bang. For a brief moment she lay frozen with terror, but then her inherent courage returned and she forced herself to get out of her bed. As she did there was a knock on her door from her maid.
‘Are you all right, my lady?’
‘Yes. And are you?’ she said, opening her door.
‘Yes, but I am certain that no good will come of us staying here any longer. I fear that someone has been shot and possibly killed!’
The maid was clearly terrified and at her wits’ end and even Lady Overbury was frightened about what she should do next. Danger seemed to dwell in every recess and shadow. It was a relief to both women when Tom Jones appeared in the corridor, having dashed down the staircase from his room. He was only half-dressed in clothes that he had hastily donned. ‘Are you both unharmed, Lady Overbury?’ he gasped.
‘Yes.’
‘Then I insist that you both go back to your room, lock your door, and stay inside until I tell you it is safe to come out. Leave it to me to explore the house and find out what has happened,’ he commanded.
Even in the circumstances in which she found herself, Lady Overbury was annoyed at his presumption in dictating what she should do. ‘Where’s Mr Burnett?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. He’s not in his room. It was his turn to stay awake and guard entry to the house downstairs.’
‘Lead the way. I’ll not hide in my room if that poor man lies harmed somewhere.’
Her courage was not matched by that of Sarah Darr. ‘I cannot go, your ladyship. I am too scared!’ she moaned, trembling with fear.
‘Don’t you realize that any intruder is bound to flee if he hears more than one person descending the staircase?’ responded Lady Overbury, trying to bolster her own courage as much as that of her maid. Seeing the terror in Darr’s eyes, she immediately realized that she was going to get nowhere. ‘Never mind! We don’t need you. Go back to your room, you silly girl!’ she stormed in frustration.
Jones looked dubious but did not try to gainsay Lady Overbury’s decision to accompany him. However, before taking a step downstairs, he locked the door that opened onto the spiral staircase so that none could enter the corridor from that direction. Then he proceeded cautiously to make his way down the main staircase into the hallway. Lady Overbury followed him although with every step she felt her knees tremble. She held a candle as high as she dared to light their way. They entered first the drawing room and then the library but found nothing disturbed. Then they made their way to the spiral stairs so that they could descend to the kitchen. The body of a young man dressed in fashionable clothes lay absolutely still on the stone-flagged floor, face down. A pool of blood had already formed round his head and they both sensed that they were looking at a dead man rather than an injured one.
Jones leant over the corpse and turned it over. He had expected to see John Burnett’s face staring back at him, but instead he stared into the eyes of a complete stranger. He beckoned to Lady Overbury to take a look and, reluctantly, she did. She also had never seen the young man before. Even as they stood there, amazed and dumbfounded, a groan emerged from the cupboard at the far end of the kitchen. Jones strode over to it. It was locked but the key was in the door. He turned it and the door immediately swung open. The body of John Burnett tumbled out onto the floor. He struggled to rise and it became immediat
ely apparent that his hair was blood-soaked and that a very ugly bruise was developing down the left side of his face. Lady Overbury hurriedly fetched him a chair and helped him into it while Jones lit the candles in the room so that the extent of his injuries could be more clearly seen. It was immediately apparent that the copious bleeding had stemmed from a savage blow to the top of his head.
‘What has happened to you, Mr Burnett?’ enquired Lady Overbury as she took a cloth and began gently wiping away some of the blood from his face.
‘I heard a noise coming from upstairs in the hall, your ladyship, and so I went up the stairs. As I entered the main hallway I was struck a blow that all but cracked open my skull. It was followed by another blow to the side of my head. I must have collapsed into unconsciousness.’
‘Did you see who struck you? Was it the man who lies dead on the floor?’
‘I did not even get a glimpse of my attacker so I honestly cannot say if it was the man who lies over there. If it was, I am glad he is no more.’
Lady Overbury saw him flinch from the pain of his battered head and turned to Tom Jones. ‘I think you had better go for a doctor at once. I know it’s very early in the morning but I do not think we should wait to have this injury attended to properly. Once you have commissioned a doctor to come to the house, then go to where Mr Fielding is lodging and say we need his immediate advice and assistance.’
‘I do not think I should leave you unguarded, my lady. For all we know, the attacker may be still inside this house.’
None would have guessed Lady Overbury’s inner fear from the calm way in which she replied, ‘It makes sense that you should search the house first, but, if you find no trace of the perpetrator of this deed, then I insist that you go for the doctor and find Mr Fielding. You will not be leaving me entirely alone. I have both my maid and Mr Burnett, even if one is a coward and the other injured.’
Jones undertook a thorough search but he found no hidden intruder. He therefore headed off immediately for Mr Fielding’s lodgings with the intention of summoning a doctor en route. Once he had gone, Lady Overbury returned upstairs to upbraid her maid and to insist that she attend Burnett until the doctor arrived. She suggested that in the first instance a poultice should be made for his injured head. She then added, ‘I suggest, Darr, that you put the poor man onto the bed in your room. He has sustained too great an injury to contemplate getting him to the top of the house.’
The two women had scarce got the injured man upstairs before they heard a knock at the main door. Lady Overbury sent Sarah Darr to answer assuming, rightly, that this indicated the arrival of medical help. The maid returned with the doctor in tow. He informed them that his name was Dr Cleland in a tone that implied they were fortunate to have a man of his standing. Lady Overbury did not take to him because he had a rather furtive appearance. His eyes were small and beady, his nose unpleasantly long, and his mouth smugly pursed. She also thought she could smell that he had been drinking although it was still very early in the morning. However, she felt any doctor was better than none. She urged him to undertake a full analysis of the injuries that Burnett had sustained and to spare no expense in treating them.
‘How is he, Doctor?’ she anxiously whispered once Dr Cleland had completed his examination.
‘Better than he would have been if I had not been called, though ‘tis a pity I was not summoned earlier,’ he replied in a ponderous voice.
‘I hope his skull is not fractured.’
‘No, there is no fracture but I deem such a laceration as he has suffered to be just as dangerous.’ He paused as if to make sure she understood the gravity of the situation. ‘People who know nothing of medicine think all is well if the skull is not fractured, whereas I had rather see a man’s skull broken than meet with some other wounds I have met with.’
Lady Overbury looked at him suspiciously. ‘I had hoped that his injuries were minor. Surely he shows no symptom of any life-threatening injury?’
The doctor gave a sniff. ‘I have stopped the haemorrhaging, but symptoms may change and what appears favourable one moment may soon become unfavourable. To say whether a wound is likely to prove fatal is a contentious point at the best of times.’
‘Surely Mr Burnett’s youthful age must help free him from danger?’
Dr Cleland looked as solemn as if he had just come out of a confessional box. ‘Who is there among us who cannot be said to be at risk whatever our age?’ he pontificated.
‘So what can you tell me?’ snapped Lady Overbury, frustrated at the doctor’s unhelpful manner.
‘That it is well that you sent for me and that it would have been even better if you had sent for me earlier,’ he replied rather truculently.
‘There is no point sending for you at all, Dr Cleland, unless you tell us what we should do to help him recover!’
He glared back at her but then responded to her command. ‘I advise that you should keep him quiet and make sure that he drinks and eats only a little. I think a little chicken broth or some water gruel would be best. I will call back later today and see him again.’
‘And may I send my maid out for some jellies for him?’
‘Aye. Jellies are good for healing injuries. They promote cohesion.’ And with that last comment ringing round the room, the doctor picked up his bag and went downstairs to examine the corpse. Lady Overbury followed him, leaving her maid to attend to Burnett’s needs.
Dr Cleland was still engaged in his investigation when Henry Fielding arrived. ‘My dear lady, how much you have suffered,’ he said solicitously, raising her hand to his lips. His gaze held hers, communicating both kindness and reassurance. ‘I should not have let you stay in this house.’
‘’Twas my insistence that led to me staying,’ she replied, greatly relieved to have his presence with her. ‘I have suffered neither as much as poor Mr Burnett, who has a very nasty cut to his head and bruise to his face, nor to the extent of an unfortunate stranger in our midst who has lost his life.’
‘He is not any one that you know?’
‘No, though his clothes are of sufficient quality to indicate that he is no commoner.’
Fielding looked at the body and asked the doctor peremptorily, ‘Have you assessed the cause of death?’
‘To fully answer that would require me to undertake a proper autopsy.’
‘But I am sure you can hazard an opinion!’ declared Fielding sarcastically.
The doctor’s eyes darkened with angry pride. ‘Opinions are not scientific, sir,’ he replied.
‘Damn it, man! Even I can see from here that he has been shot at fairly close range. If you want any payment for your services here I suggest you answer my question and stop prevaricating.’
‘Very well, sir,’ replied Dr Cleland, glowering at this affront to his professionalism but fearful of losing his fee. ‘As far as I can see at this juncture the ball entered his shoulder, then passed through his heart, and came out through his lower back. I doubt whether he felt any pain. Death would have been almost instantaneous.’
‘This is Dr Cleland,’ said Lady Overbury, suddenly conscious that no introductions had been made.
The name caused Fielding to wince. In his haste to find a doctor Jones had found one whose reputation was one of the worst in the city. Cleland had been sacked from the Mineral Water Hospital the previous autumn and Fielding recalled how the news of this had been blazoned across the local broadsheets. Two women patients had accused Dr Cleland of professional misconduct on account of his repeatedly engaging in vaginal examinations. Fielding could not recall all the details but he remembered that one of the nurses had given testimony how the doctor had insisted she leave the room and then bolted the door so none could see what he was doing. His dismissal had caused upset in medical circles because it was feared that other doctors might respond to the decision by becoming reluctant to examine any lady above the shoestrings or below the necklace.
‘I am quite ready to undertake a fuller examination of t
he victim. I can easily arrange for the body to be collected,’ said Dr Cleland, unaware of Fielding’s train of thought.
‘That will not be necessary, sir. I have informed Mr Nash of what has occurred here and he is on his way. I am sure he will undertake the appropriate steps for this young man’s removal. Your services are not required.’
Dr Cleland might have taken issue with this curt dismissal had not the thought of meeting Beau Nash filled him with horror. Instead he rapidly made his exit, pausing only to say to Lady Overbury, ‘I will return this afternoon to continue Mr Burnett’s treatment, your ladyship.’
‘Has that man attended to Mr Burnett properly?’ asked Fielding as soon as the doctor was out of the room.’
‘As far as I can tell. I did not find him the easiest man to understand.’
‘We may get a second opinion if necessary,’ muttered Fielding, choosing not to alarm Lady Overbury about the nature of the doctor whom Tom Jones had found. He looked more closely at the dead man again. There was something about the man’s coat that seemed familiar. At first he could not think what it was and then it dawned on him. It was the buttons on it. They matched the one that had been found grasped in the dead housekeeper’s hand. On closer inspection he could even see where a button was missing. He pointed this out to Lady Overbury, saying, ‘It looks as if we have found the murderer of Miss Grey even if we now have to discover who murdered him.’
‘Have you indeed!’ said an unexpected voice, as Beau Nash descended the stairs to the kitchen followed by a man from the night watch and Tom Jones. ‘I came as quickly as I could once I received your message about what had happened.’
‘We are very pleased to see you, sir,’ replied Lady Overbury.
As Beau Nash drew near to the corpse he gave a startled gasp. From the look on his horrified face it was obvious that he, unlike them, recognized who it was. ‘It is Lord Kearsley, the son of Sir Robert,’ he declared, having mastered his surprise and dismay.