The Jacobite Murders

by G. M. Best

  Lady Overbury discovered to her relief that her strange bathing costume did not expose her shape by clinging to her body but instead floated around her. The warmth of the water was initially welcome after the cold journey, but soon Lady Overbury started to perspire freely. Looking around her she saw a sea of equally flushed faces and noticed that the male bathers wore drawers and waistcoats made of the same canvas material as her costume. She could not help thinking that she and all the other bathers looked rather like ancient yellow water lilies that had seen better days and were long past their prime. However, of greater concern to her than everyone’s ludicrous appearance was witnessing the ulcers, sores, and rashes that seemed to abound all around her. She wondered what terrible contamination she and her maid might be risking.

  Her mind was taken off this alarming prospect by the sound of crude shouting coming from above her. To her consternation she discovered that the King’s Bath had no roof. Looking down upon those in the water from the galleries and surrounding houses was considered one of Bath’s delights. The shouts stemmed from some male bystanders who were keen to draw attention to Sarah Darr whose youth and beauty was at odds with the aged and ugly visages of most of the bathers. The saucy comments continued until two bath attendants drove them away. Most of the bathers appeared unconcerned. They were too engrossed in gossiping to all and sundry. The shedding of their clothes seemed to have freed them from the social conventions that normally dictated to whom one could or could not speak. Lady Overbury exchanged pleasantries with those bathers nearest to her, but, as far as she was concerned, the sound of the orchestra striking up came as a welcome relief to the scurrilous gossip and lewd innuendoes that seemed to form the bulk of their conversation.

  The musicians began playing a movement from a symphony. She recognized its main tune although she could not recall its composer. Once this was over they started performing the music to Purcell’s popular song ‘When I am laid in earth’. Seeing the decrepitude of so many of the bathers Lady Overbury could not help but feel the choice of song was particularly apt. She was relieved when, shortly after seven o’clock, she saw Lady Crowthorpe and Sophia Westbrook arrive. The latter spotted her immediately and engineered it so that she and her aunt entered the water relatively nearby. Once her aunt was deeply engaged in talking to other bathers, Sophia moved across to Lady Overbury, who, not wishing their conversation to be overheard by her maid, told Darr to go and occupy herself for a time in talking to whom she pleased. Her maid seemed more than happy to do as she was bid.

  Sophia grasped Lady Overbury’s hand and whispered so that no other person could hear, ‘I am so very pleased to see you. I feared that you might not come.’

  ‘I always keep my word, Miss Westbrook.’

  ‘Please call me Sophia.’

  Lady Overbury smiled. ‘As you wish, my dear.’

  ‘I am afraid that your plan that I should speak to my father before there was any formal marriage agreement came too late. When I returned from Prior Park to our lodgings here in Bath I discovered that he and Squire Woodforde had been that very afternoon to your house to tell Mr Burnett to marry me. My father says that he will have me locked away in Bedlam if I object any further to the match. Oh Lady Overbury, what shall I do? I have no one to whom I can turn.’

  ‘Calm yourself, Sophia. The marriage will not take place immediately and you can count on my assistance to help see it never does. Together we will find a way to change your father’s mind.’

  ‘You do not know my father, Lady Overbury. Once he has an idea in his head it is almost impossible to dislodge it.’

  ‘We will see about that, but for now I must share with you some other bad news and I must ask you to be very brave.’

  The poor young woman felt a sudden chill run through her body despite all the hot water in which she bathed. ‘Please don’t tell me that Tom has already left for America!’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  ‘No, it’s not that your Mr Jones has gone anywhere,’ reassured Lady Overbury. She hesitated, not sure how to break the news of what had happened. ‘He is fine now but he’s been injured.’ Again she paused to find the right words. ‘I regret to inform you that someone tried to murder him last night.’ Sophia Westbrook’s face went a deathly white and for a moment it looked as if she might faint, but she proved of stronger stock. Anxious to get the whole story told, Lady Overbury proceeded to outline the events of the previous evening whilst trying to minimize the extent of Tom’s injuries. Sophia listened intently, her face showing all her horror at what she was being told.

  ‘I must go to him at once!’ she cried when Lady Overbury had finished.

  ‘No, Sophia, I believe that would be very unwise. Mr Burnett would have no hesitation in informing your father and that would lead to measures being taken to prevent you ever seeing Tom again. Rest assured that I have told your sweetheart how much you love him and I am confident that the knowledge of that will make him recover quickly. So I beg you to be patient in this matter. I will keep you informed of his progress and, if I discern a time when you can see him without others knowing, I will let you know.’ She paused to let another bather pass them by and then reached out kindly to her distressed friend. ‘Be comforted. I will use Tom’s injuries to help your cause by encouraging Squire Woodforde to visit him. I am sure that if he sees the poor boy’s sad condition it will reignite his former fondness. I will then try and persuade him to abandon the idea of a marriage between you and his nephew so that you can marry Tom instead.’

  ‘Bless you, Lady Overbury,’ sobbed the grateful young girl.

  The older woman bit her lip to prevent showing how moved she was and then said gently, ‘I know this wretched water is hot but there is really no point trying to cool it down with your tears, is there? Now go back before Lady Crowthorpe notices your absence. I will have to think of some way that we can keep in touch that does not involve us being boiled alive.’

  As Sophia Westbrook made her way back towards Lady Crowthorpe, the orchestra began playing a popular tune by Arne written for Shakespeare’s song ‘Blow, blow, thou winter wind’. Lady Overbury reflected on the phrase in the song that ran most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. There was nothing feigned about her affection for both Tom and Sophia and she did not view their love for one another as mere folly. ‘Damn it,’ she said to herself, ‘I’ll see these two young people wed even if it means that I have to be shrivelled up by these infernal waters every day for a month!’ She looked out to summon her maid and was surprised to find that she could not see Darr anywhere near her. ‘Damn that girl! Where can she have gone?’

  Even as she said this, a voice rang out, ‘My God, there’s a man bleeding to death here!’ Lady Overbury looked across and saw that the water round the ornamental marble pump in the centre of the King’s Bath was turning pink. An instant hush had fallen upon the scene but it was soon broken by a woman shrieking as she pointed to where the bloody water had begun staining her bathing clothes. Within seconds there was chaos with some bathers trying to get out of the water as quickly as they could and others trying to make their way to the man’s aid. Lady Overbury suddenly became aware of Sarah Darr behind her. ‘This way, your ladyship,’ she said, sounding concerned. ‘This is no place for us.’ The maid quickly assisted her to clamber onto a stone shelf and both women then watched grimly as attendants lifted the man’s body out of the water. They heard a voice say ‘He’s been murdered! Stabbed to death!’ For once her maid’s tendency to go to pieces in a crisis did not display itself. She organized their departure from the King’s Bath with quick efficiency. No one dared stop any of the bathers leaving because detaining people dressed only in bathing clothes would have rapidly added to the death toll in the chill November air.

  Once back inside the house in Queen Square and dressed, Lady Overbury tried to forget what had happened. As far as she was concerned investigating two corpses was sufficient without adding a third. When she entered the drawing room she found t
hat Henry Fielding had left her a brief note. She opened it and read:

  The new housekeeper will arrive this afternoon. Her name is Mrs Fleeting and she comes with excellent references. I have told her as much as she needs to know. I also arranged for Dr Oliver to see Mr Jones again this morning. You will be pleased to hear that the doctor has decided his injuries are ugly to look at but essentially superficial. He therefore thinks Mr Jones will be well enough to resume his duties within three or four days at most, although he is likely to be sore in some places for a week or so.

  Lady Overbury was delighted by the news but it made her aware that she would need to get Squire Woodforde to visit the injured youth whilst all his wounds still looked at their worst. With that in mind she went back upstairs to her bedroom to write him a letter. Unknown to her, her plan was already being undermined as she wrote it. Lady Crowthorpe had also left the King’s Bath quickly that morning and she had spent most of the time since then giving full vent to her feelings over what had happened to her brother. She had harangued him with a very dramatic and exaggerated version of her experiences and then tried his patience with an overly long invective against the incompetence of the attendants in permitting anyone to smuggle in a weapon. At the very moment that Lady Overbury was putting pen to paper, Lady Crowthorpe was also telling Westbrook about the incident that had happened the previous evening and how it showed that the authorities were losing their grip.

  ‘I was reliably told this morning by fellow bathers that a man was almost burnt to death last night. Apparently the Guy Fawkes dummy had a real man hidden within it. He was literally pulled out of the flames at the last minute!’ Lady Crowthorne paused to picture the scene, relishing in her mind the potential horror of what might have happened.

  Her niece tried not to show how much this story affected her and feigned surprise.

  ‘I am sure it was no more than a prank that got out of hand,’ ventured Westbrook. ‘He was probably a soldier who had had too much to drink. That would explain why he failed to get out of the costume earlier.’

  ‘According to what I have been told he had been bound hand and foot and his mouth had been taped to prevent him shouting out.’

  ‘Doubtless the work of equally drunken comrades! The sooner these soldiers leave and head off to fight those damned Jacobites the better.’

  Sophia had intended to stay quiet during this further exchange but she simply could not suppress her feelings when she heard details of her lover’s sufferings that Lady Overbury had chosen not to tell her. As a consequence she found herself blurting out in a distressed tone, ‘The injured man was not a soldier and he was not drunk. It was Mr Jones and someone tried to cruelly kill him!’

  ‘Zounds! Did I not say that I never wanted to hear that coxcomb’s name mentioned again in this house!’ yelled back her father, glaring at her. ‘If it was him, I wish he had been burnt! The world would be well rid of such a scoundrel!’

  ‘Father, how can you say such a thing?’

  ‘How have you acquired this information?’ stormed her father and she could hear the distrust in his voice. ‘Have you been keeping in contact with this man despite my command to the contrary? If you have, I swear that I will disinherit you and have you locked away in an asylum. There you can live on bread and water.’

  Sophia was unwilling to lie and yet equally unwilling to reveal Lady Overbury as her source. She tried to diffuse his anger by saying a partial truth. ‘I heard his name mentioned whilst we were bathing.’

  ‘Then let that be an end of the matter!’ he interjected. ‘I want no more said about this Mr Jones from either of you.’

  ‘There is no need to take that tone with me, Brother!’ snapped Lady Crowthorpe, rolling her eyes at him. ‘You have a roughness in your manner that no woman should have to bear. I shall go to my room until you are in a calmer frame of mind.’

  Sophia waited until her aunt had departed before ignoring her father’s command by daring to continue the subject. ‘Father, I have known Mr Jones since we were children. May I not go and see him and convey our condolences and sympathies now that he has been so cruelly abused?’

  ‘Have you not heard what I said?’ Westbrook shouted. ‘I have no sympathy whatever for that infamous lad. Whatever burns he has suffered are just a foretaste of the agonizing pain that he will endure when he faces the fires of hell. And make no mistake – that will be his destiny!’

  His daughter reeled under the savagery of his words. ‘We cannot be in Bath and ignore what has happened to him! What would Squire Woodforde think?’

  ‘Then we will not stay a day longer here. I will order our servants to pack at once. We will return home this afternoon and there you can prepare for your forthcoming wedding to Mr Burnett. I intend to get a licence as quick as I can.’ Westbrook began furiously ringing the bell to summon his manservant. ‘Go and tell your aunt that I want you both ready to leave the city by midday so we can be home before it gets too dark.’

  The poor girl saw that there was no point trying to argue with her father in the mood that he was in, but she thought his cruel words were abhorrent. Why should she accept his command that she should not see Tom? Why should she let him force her into an unhappy marriage with John Burnett? Why should she and Tom not marry, even if it meant they were penniless? Poverty with a man she loved was infinitely preferable to riches with a man she despised and loathed! A weight seemed to drop off her shoulders as she determined that, whatever the cost, she would run away rather than obey her father’s instructions. She chose her next words carefully because she knew she would have to feign acceptance of her father’s wishes if she was to achieve her freedom. ‘You know, sir, that I must not, nor can, refuse to obey any absolute command of yours,’ she said in a voice that was both subdued and conciliatory. ‘I was upset at the news of the cruel treatment bestowed on Mr Jones but you are right to remind me that his welfare is no concern of mine.’

  ‘I am pleased to hear you say it,’ responded Westbrook. ‘But don’t think that means we shan’t be leaving Bath this day.’

  ‘Of course not. I will instruct my maid to pack my case at once. The sooner we are home the better. I can then begin planning my wedding. My opposition to Mr Burnett has been a mere girlish whim. A daughter’s father knows best whom she should marry.’

  This sudden surrender to all that he wanted instantly dissipated all Westbrook’s rage and he insisted on embracing and kissing her. A tinge of guilt at her deceit swept across Sophia’s conscience but she renewed her determination by picturing in her mind Tom lying injured in the house in Queen Square. Knowing that she would require money, she clung to her father and said, ‘My only regret at leaving Bath so soon is that I have not had time to purchase any new jewellery whilst we were here. I saw a very fine bracelet yesterday in one of the shops in the Orange Grove and it was very reasonably priced.’

  ‘I know that you have felt that I have been overly harsh with you in recent months, but I have done everything because I want only the best for you. Now that we are in agreement you can have all that you want. Go and purchase it quickly, my dear, while the packing is taking place. I’ll send one of the servants with you as your escort.’

  ‘But I have no money and the jeweller is unlikely to take credit when I am wanting the bracelet immediately and he knows we are leaving town.’

  ‘How much is it?’

  His daughter named a sum and her father handed the money over to her. ‘I know you love me,’ she replied and she meant it. She began to leave the room but then turned and ran back into his arms to give him another embrace. She whispered into his ear, ‘We never had a single dispute until this business of my marriage to Mr Burnett. I want you to know that whatever happens to me I do love you very much.’

  Rushing upstairs, Sophia took refuge in her bedroom where a middle-aged woman was undertaking some sewing. She was rather gaunt and her thin nose and prominent cheekbones gave her a rather skeleton-like appearance, but there was a kindness in her dark e
yes and a warmth to her smile that was immediately engaging. Though dressed very plainly, it was obvious that she took pride in her appearance because her clothes were immaculately clean and her greying hair well brushed. Elizabeth Newton was a widow who had served as her maid almost since Sophia’s birth. It was therefore only natural that the young girl wished to confide in her all that had happened and to inform her of her determination to flee from her father that very day. The older woman listened with mounting concern because she was deeply attached to Sophia and saw only disaster in what she was proposing.

  ‘You have long known my feelings about Tom and you have often said that you would help me should I wish to elope with him,’ concluded Sophia. ‘Will you not help me now?’

  ‘Oh dear, ma’am, ’tis a great risk you take and I am frightened out of my wits at what might happen. Don’t you think with time you could learn to love Mr Burnett?’

  ‘Rather than submit to be his wife I’d plunge a dagger through my heart!’

  ‘Lud! ma’am! You frighten me out of my wits. Let me beseech you not to suffer such wicked thoughts to enter your head. O lud! I tremble every inch of me. Dear ma’am, if you did that you would be denied Christian burial. They’d have your corpse buried in the highway, and drive a stake through you. If you hate the young gentleman so very bad that you can’t bear to think of going into bed to him, then all that is required is that you must not wed him.’