The Jacobite Murders

by G. M. Best

  ‘So where is Burnett now?’ asked Nash.

  ‘The strange thing is that none of us has bothered to ask that question before,’ muttered Fielding.

  Lady Overbury nodded. ‘For my part I never liked the man and was happy to see the back of him when I moved out of the house in Queen Square and no longer required his services.’

  ‘And Fielding and I let him go after the search into Darr’s disappearance proved a failure,’ added Nash. ‘If he was her accomplice, he may well have contributed, of course, to that unsuccessful enterprise.’

  ‘As for me,’ said Jones, ‘I avoided any mention of the man because I knew he was the cause of Sophia’s flight.’

  ‘So where is he now?’ said Fielding, echoing Nash’s earlier question.

  ‘The obvious person to ask is Squire Woodforde,’ rejoined Jones. ‘I’ll ride out to him at once.’

  ‘Do so,’ urged Nash. ‘We may all be grasping at straws and unnecessarily maligning the man, but I think we urgently need to question John Burnett. When can you get back to us?’

  ‘If I ride quickly I can just get back here before it gets too dark this evening.’

  Nash looked pleased. ‘Then let us say that we will resume our meeting here at five o’clock in anticipation of your arrival around then.’

  The meeting at five o’clock proved a tense affair because Jones did not make an appearance and Sophia, who had insisted on joining them, became increasingly agitated. The others tried to reassure her whilst all the time looking at the ticking clock and wondering whether he was safe or not. Too many people had died for them not to be concerned. It was not until six that they heard a knocking at the Master of Ceremonies’s door. To their relief it was Tom who was admitted into the room shortly afterwards by Nash’s manservant. He looked exhausted but he was obviously unharmed. Sophia abandoned all the norms of polite society and flung herself into his arms. Once he had disentangled himself, a rather red-faced Tom began telling them what he had discovered.

  ‘When I arrived at Squire Woodforde’s I was told that John had been there the day before, looking agitated and deeply distressed. My uncle, being the kind man that he is, tried to get him to talk about what was upsetting him. He wondered whether news of my betrothal to Sophia had somehow reached him, but, when he raised that subject, John replied that he had not the slightest interest in whomever Sophia chose to marry because she meant nothing to him. He then went on to curse my existence, saying that I had cost him the one person he had ever truly loved. John then stormed off and for the rest of the day no one saw him. Yesterday evening he reappeared and announced that he would require the best horse in the stables because he had a long journey to make. Squire Woodforde willingly agreed to let him select the horse of his choice but then sought clarification as to where he was going. John refused to answer, saying he was not a child and saw no reason why he should have to recount his plans to anyone. He left early this morning as soon as it was light.’

  ‘In what direction?’ asked Fielding.

  ‘According to the stable hand, he took the road northwards, travelling very light with only a small bag in his possession.’ Jones looked at the faces around him and saw in their eyes the same belief that he now held about John Burnett being Sarah Darr’s accomplice. ‘He carries with him the documents that endanger the crown.’

  ‘Unfortunately I am not sure that we have time to alert the authorities to stop him,’ groaned Nash.

  ‘I thought you might say that,’ replied Jones. ‘That is why I am so late. I have already been around all the saddlers in the city and acquired the best horse I could hire – a fine black stallion standing seventeen hands high, well capable of bearing my weight and a creature of tested stamina and endurance. It is saddled and ready for me to depart as soon as it is light again. John may have a twenty-four-hour start but I vow that I will do all in my power to catch and stop him.’

  No father or future wife could have been prouder than Henry Fielding and Sophia Westbrook were at that moment and their emotion kept them initially silent. Lady Overbury too found herself too choked to speak. It was left to Beau Nash to growl their approval. ‘A hearty Amen to that, young man,’ he said.

  15

  THE RIDE NORTH

  The next morning Jones was dressed and ready to depart the minute it became light. Once he was out of the confines of the city he spurred on his horse and set off at a steady but not over-demanding gallop. The slight breeze made the wintry leafless branches of the trees on either side of the road appear to dance as he rode past them. A few frightened birds flew out of their resting places at the sound of his horse’s hoofs and he took this as a good omen. If successful, was he not going to strike an even greater fear into the hearts of his country’s enemies? He felt elated as the beautiful creature that he rode got fully into its stride and the keen, sharp air whistled past his face, because not only did he sense the power of the beast beneath him but also the youthful vigour of his own body. It was almost as if he could feel his blood coursing through his veins in the cold morning air.

  At first the territory through which he passed was not unknown to him because he had travelled that section of the Fosse Way near Bath on a number of occasions. He travelled up the steep Foss Lane, passing woodland that had long since lost its last leaf to emerge on a hilltop with sweeping views. He then rode along what was little more than a narrow switchback country lane for about twelve miles. All around him pockets of arable land lay empty, the harvest no more than a distant memory, but there were still herds of sheep to be seen grazing in the fields even at that early hour. He saw little sign of any other life except an occasional frightened rabbit rushing into its burrow at his approach, or a wild bird flying overhead, silhouetted against the grey sky. This did not matter because the scenery was varied enough to maintain his interest as he moved through valleys and across hillsides that bore all the signs of the wintry season, occasionally crossing a bridge or passing through a hamlet or village. He enjoyed in particular the sight of swirling smoke rising from a distant cottage or farmstead, and the winter sun flashing through a break in the clouds to shine upon the steeple of a church, making its stone momentarily sparkle.

  However, as time passed his initial exhilaration was replaced by mounting weariness, not least because the appalling state of the road required constant vigilance. There were deep and semi-frozen ruts everywhere and the uneven surface caused his horse to stumble on a number of occasions and once to almost fall onto its knees, even though he was as vigilant as he could be in directing its path to avoid the worst sections. In the end Tom judged it safer to loosen the reins in order to let his horse judge the best route, relying on the creature’s superior natural instinct. This proved a better solution, though the pace at which they travelled then diminished. Aware that no man could be on the alert for hour after hour, he took to dismounting and walking for a mile or so alongside the horse. This relieved him whilst also giving his horse a welcome break from the burden of carrying him. What kept Tom going was the significance of his mission, even though he had some qualms about its potential outcome. At one crossroads he saw a gibbet from which dangled the tattered remnants of a felon, the rags-wrapped bones rattling loudly in the breeze. If he was successful he knew many a Jacobite would face a similar fate.

  By the time daylight began to fade he estimated that he must have travelled over thirty-five miles. Fortunately the sky had become increasingly cloudless as the day had gone on and so, as night began to close in, the moon cast its light over the roadway. Without such assistance Jones would have soon lost the ability to keep to the track. He therefore stroked the sweat-soaked neck of his horse and permitted it to slacken its pace yet more. The beast responded by pressing on as best its failing energy would permit. It came as a relief to Jones when he suddenly became aware he had reached the outskirts of the market town of Cirencester. He rode up to the front of the Golden Cross Inn and dismounted. Almost immediately an ostler came out to attend to his needs, havi
ng heard the clatter of hoofs on the cobbles. The man’s snow-white hair and heavily lined face bespoke a person of advanced years but he was obviously very familiar with the needs of horses and he moved speedily to address the exhausted animal’s requirements. He chose not to take offence at Jones’s attempt to lecture him on what was required after such a long day of riding. Instead he simply made reassuring sounds and led the horse away to the stables.

  Jones entered the inn and, as he crossed the threshold, he welcomed not only the sight of the wooden settles and the fire burning in the hearth, but also the smell that came from the bubbling pot that hung above the flames. To his surprise he saw that there were only a couple of other guests in the place and they were playing cards in a far corner of the heavily panelled room. They appeared an unlikely pair. One was an elderly fat man, ugly of demeanour, unshaven and unkempt. His heavily tanned visage and large muscular hands pointed to him being a local farm worker. The other was a wiry, thin young man with a long nose and pale cheeks and eyes that were heavily bagged. His face bore signs of an intelligence that his older companion lacked. Despite the warmth of the room, the young man was wrapped in a faded cloak that entirely hid his attire so it was impossible to judge his social standing, but Jones surmised that he must be a fellow traveller because the cloak bore the same journey stains that his own clothes carried. Both men looked up at his entry but neither greeted him.

  Behind the bar of the inn stood a tall man, with an almost soldierly bearing, dressed in unfashionable but serviceable garb. Jones rightly assumed that this was the landlord and he took heart from the fact that he appeared an honest fellow. He had a broad brow, a fine nose, kind eyes, and a warm smile. Conscious of the late hour of his arrival and that his face and clothes were caked with dust and grime, Jones immediately handed over enough coins to show that he was a person worthy of attention. ‘I would like a comfortable chamber with your best bed and your softest sheets. My ride has made me most weary and I want a good night’s rest because I face an equally long journey tomorrow. See that a good, hearty meal is prepared for me and a bottle of your best wine to accompany it. Please also ensure that I have ample hot water sent up to my room so I can clean myself up.’ He paused and looked sternly at the innkeeper. ‘I warn you: do not try to palm me off with a hard bed, or some stale, musty leftovers, or a flagon of piss.’

  ‘I can assure you, sir, that your every need will be met,’ replied the landlord, pleased at his unexpected good fortune in acquiring a wealthy visitor at such an unexpected hour. He looked Jones up and down with a discerning eye, and held out his hand in hearty welcome. ‘My daughter will show you to the best room that we have and get you all that you require, whilst down here my wife will prepare you a feast. You can smell that there is a good broth on the hob and, though the hour is late, I am sure that she can rustle up one of her good meat pies from the larder. As for drink, I will go down into my cellar and lay my hands on a fine bottle of Burgundy if that will suit?’

  Jones nodded his assent and he had scarcely time to remove his outer coat when the innkeeper’s daughter made her appearance. She was dressed in a plain blue gown that was neither fashionable nor becoming but she still looked surprisingly pretty. Her hair was a mass of golden curls, her eyes a cornflower blue, and her lips an open invitation to be kissed. As Jones followed her shapely form upstairs he realized just how stiff his limbs were from the saddle, but, exhausted though he was, he could not help flirting with such an attractive girl.

  ‘How comes it that one so beautiful has not yet found a husband?’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Is there no handsome man who has caught your fancy?’

  ‘If I waited for a man to catch my fancy, I would never marry, sir. The men round here are far too dull.’

  ‘And what if I should stay here? Might I then attract your heart?’ he replied, treating her to one of those smiles that he knew the opposite sex usually found irresistible.

  She smiled back at him but then gave an unexpected response. ‘I grant you, sir, that you are very pleasing to the eye, and I suspect that you have a wit that would lighten the weary hours that I have to work, but I am sure you are not the man for me.’

  He looked at her curiously. ‘And what makes you so sure of that?’

  ‘I am my father’s only child and I must marry someone who has the business head to run this place when it passes to me. I see in your face a desire for adventure that means you would never think of settling down here and helping me entertain our customers.’

  ‘How about entertaining this customer?’ he joked.

  The smile on her lips faded away and the skin on her face flushed a deeper pink. ‘If it is bawdy entertainment you seek, sir, then I think you must find another hostelry. This is an honest house and I am no whore.’

  Jones also coloured and said ruefully, ‘Forgive me. I only jested. I can assure you that my heart is already given to another. I see that you are as virtuous as you are pretty and I admire you all the more for it.’

  Two hours later there was a knock at Jones’s door and the landlord entered to ask if he wanted anything else.

  ‘No, sir, I have been well fed and the wine was excellent.’

  ‘Very good, then, with your permission, I shall just clear away the remnants.’ As he proceeded to do so, the landlord sensed his visitor was in the mood for conversation and, in order to satisfy his curiosity, observed, ‘It is obvious that you have travelled very far today, sir. My ostler says that your horse was so exhausted that it was close to collapse. If I may be bold, what brings you here and so urgently? I judge from your speech that you are not from these parts.’

  ‘It is not fitting that I should entirely tell you my purpose, sir,’ replied Jones. ‘May it content you to know that I am on a mission that may help end the thread posed by these damned Jacobites.’

  ‘I confess, sir, I come of Roundhead stock and it is nothing to me whether we have a German or a Scot upon the throne. I would rather we were ruled by Parliament than by any monarch. However, I have no time for any who dare choose to invade this land, and, were I a young man, I daresay that I would be foolish enough to volunteer to join King George’s Army rather than see foreigners seize English soil. If you are headed to join the royal troops – as I surmise may be your intention – then I salute your courage and I will drink to your success. Fill up your glass!’ He poured more wine into Jones’s cup. ‘Here’s a toast for you! Damnation to all perfidious princes and may there be a speedy end to the insurrection!’

  Jones thought it prudent to take the toast with good humour. ‘I think, landlord, that now the bottle is empty and I am filled, ’tis time that I spend as much of the night in repose as I can. I must have an early start. See that I am awoken just before dawn.’

  ‘Very well, sir. You will not know such comfort as this for many a day to come.’

  The next morning, which was the first day of December, Jones awoke and, after some brief ablutions, went outside to look to his horse. He was pleased to discover that the skilled attentions of the ostler and a night of rest had performed wonders. The animal looked as fresh as it had when he had first mounted it the previous day. He returned inside and ordered a breakfast that was almost as hearty as his meal the night before. It was as he sat eating this that the landlord handed him a parcel and bid him open it. ‘I have decided that it is not right that a young handsome lad like you should face the enemy bare-chested,’ he said, ‘This was my grandfather’s in the Civil War and I have no son to pass it on to. May it offer you some degree of protection in battle.’ Opening what he had been given Jones discovered an ancient cuirass made from layers of hardened leather. ‘I know it will not stop the ball from a musket nor even a sword if driven with strength,’ went on the landlord, ‘but, if you wear this beneath your coat, it will protect you against any glancing blow. I am told it saved my grandfather from serious injury on more than one occasion.’

  Jones was highly dubious about the efficacy of what he was being offered.
Buff coats and the like had long gone out of fashion. However, he was too moved by the landlord’s kindness to reject it. After a moment’s thought he decided it might provide him with an extra layer should the weather turn colder. He therefore thanked his host profusely and agreed to put it on before he renewed his arduous journey. It was a decision that he was not to regret because he had not travelled far out of Cirencester when the clatter of a horse’s hoofs made him realize that he was being followed. What was at first a distant blur soon resolved itself into a horseman, body bent low. As the rider drew nearer, Jones saw that it was the thin man who had been in the inn the previous night. Unsure of what to do, he pulled up his horse and awaited him, using the time to draw out his pistol and uncock it. He had heard too many tales of highwaymen and of corpses left by the roadside to judge the rider anything other than a potential threat.

  Seeing the weapon, the thin man slowed his approach as he drew near and in a reassuring tone asked, ‘Have I the honour of addressing Mr Tom Jones?’

  ‘You have the advantage of me, sir. I am Tom Jones, but I do not know who you are or how you come to know my name.’

  ‘My name is Oliver Fairfax and Mr Fielding has sent me to join you in your endeavour.’

  Jones knew at once this was a lie but gave no indication of his feelings, judging it was important to discover more about the man first. ‘Then why did you not reveal yourself to me last night when we were both at the inn?’ he replied.