Bruce Alexander - [Sir John Fielding 01]

by Alexander, Bruce

  It had taken the better part of two hours for us to arrive thus far. Although Mr. Donnelly had left immediately after he had ministered his potion to Lady Fielding, such faith had he in its working. Sir John sat bv her bedside until she succumbed to a deep sleep. Mrs. Gredge found diverse chares for me until Sir John appeared, his tricorn on his head and his stick in his hand, ready to depart.

  As we had walked together to St. James Street, I gave him a summary of my findings of the evening before. I was disappointed that he set little store by my hope that I had found the secret exit from the house out beyond the privet hedge through my experience with a fractious team of horses. “I do believe there is something there,” said I to him, “perhaps a plate of some kind covering a tunnel to the house.” He replied: “I think it more likely that what you stumbled upon was the coal hole, or perhaps some entrv to the cesspool. You might look into that sometime today.” Of my report on Lord Goodhope’s “impromptus.” he had only this to say: “Although I am grieved at what you tell me. I am not surprised. It confirms Lady Goodhope’s suspicions, which were told me in your absence. I shall want to talk to both of those young girls when we arrive at our destination.” And finally when I sought to repeat James Boswell’s clever discourse on the likely meanings of “misadventure,” and found myself floundering somewhat, he waved me to silence. “Enough,” said Sir John. “Though the man is a popinjay, he is no fool. And as he reasons his way to murder, so will the multitude by means more crude. They seek sensation, and murder provides the greatest. I would that she had not placed that notice, but I suppose it had to be done. In truth, what Boswell said of Goodhope was quite correct. I had occasion to hear his lordship speak against a bill I had helped write, and he was most eloquent: pernicious in his reasoning, but eloquent nonetheless. What he had not for arguments, he supplied in histrionics. The man had a voice, though, I vow, quite unforgettable.”

  And so we came to St. James Street, all lathered from our brisk walk on that raw spring morning. Once set on his course. Sir John traveled as well by shank as young Mr. Donnelly. His demanding knock at the Goodhope residence was answered late by none other than Ebenezer Tepper, who pulled on his forelock country-fashion and threw wide the door.

  When Sir John inquired after Lady Goodhope, the footman said quite respectfully, “Oo’s getten a gast, sor.” Then he gestured grandly toward the sitting room nearby.

  At that moment she appeared at the open door to that room, appearing quite distressed; in her hand she held what appeared to be a letter with a broken seal. Behind her, to my surprise, stood Gabriel Donnelly. I wished to notify Sir John of this last, yet saw no opportunity. He was immediately aware of her presence, however, and turned to her with a bow.

  “Your ladyship,” said he.

  “Sir John,” said she, “you are most welcome this particular morning, for I have received a most worrying communication.”

  “Of what nature?”

  “Of… well, of a financial nature. Would you not say so, Mr. Donnelly?”

  “Mr. Donnelly?” said Sir John, showing some surprise. ‘You are the guest?”

  “1 summoned him,” said she,“the moment I received this crude, presumptuous letter. I needed his counsel. Yours, of course, is also welcome.”

  “That is gratifying,” he allowed; and then he observed a bit slyly: “Mr. Donnelly has had a busy morning.”

  “That I have,” said the surgeon, “and each of my calls has been made in friendship and with due respect.”

  “Indeed,” said Sir John, mollified and near apologetic, “I am sure that is true. My poor wife sleeps now in spite of her illness, thanks only to you. But now I understand your wish to get on quickly to your next appointment.”

  “Enough of this,” said Lady Goodhope in a manner most willful. “Will you or will you not listen to this letter?”

  “Of course! Of course!”

  “Then come in, and shut the door. I do not wish this to get past Potter. I shall explain his role in a moment.”

  She led the way into the room. All seated themselves save for me. I remained standing by the chair Sir John occupied, thinking it the proper attitude for a magistrate’s helper.

  I noted that Mr. Donnelly regarded her with the utmost seriousness and sympathy. Lady Goodhope, holding the letter close and thus betraying her myopia, cleared her throat and began to read: ” ‘My dear Lady Goodhope,’ it begins. Can you imagine such impudence in that salutation? Especially from one such as this?”

  “Such as what. Lady Goodhope?” asked Sir John.

  “Well, just listen!”

  “Please continue.”

  Again, she cleared her throat: ” ‘Please have my condolences as is due you at a time such as this, for I saw early today that Lord Goodhope died in the Public Advertiser. It grieves me sore, for he was known to me well since he was often in my establishment as gentlemen do for games of hazard which is what I offer. And it grieves me special for I must inform you that Lord Richard, now deceased, piled up such a pile of unpaid debts and promises of payment that I was forced two weeks past to ask of him some earnest of payment. So we two settled on an agreement which was drawn up by my lawyer. The nature of it is such that I would call it a mortgage, but my lawyer says it is a lien. The amount of this lien, giving the benefit of the doubt to the lawyer because I knew he must have the right name for what he himself wrote, is twenty thousand pounds, and the property in question is the house to which I have directed my man to deliver this. To make it plain, unless you or someone in his name can pay this debt by the end of the month, you must move out and give the house to me. I could show you or anybody the debts I hold on Lord Goodhope, whilst he was alive, and you would see that his debts amount to far more than twenty thousand pounds. Yet it is a handsome house, and I would like to live in it. So I will settle for that. Send anyone you want to look at the lien and the promises of payment.’ “

  She looked up. Her eyes flashed. She beat a well-shod foot down upon the floor. “ThereI” said she, ‘Svould you not say he has tested my Hmit?”

  “How is it signed?” asked Sir John.

  “With great effrontery, of course I” She brought the letter up close again and read the last two lines: ” ‘I remain your humble and obedient servant, John Francis Bilbo.’ ” She sniffed nobly. “Servant indeedr

  “Hmmm,” said Sir John, “Black Jack Bilbo.” He mused a moment. “And how does Potter figure in this?”

  “That was my suggestion,” said Mr. Donnelly.

  “To wit?”

  “That we send someone to examine the document in question, at least insofar as to sav if the signature on it is truly Lord Good-hope’s.”

  “Is there am reason to doubt that it is?”

  “Well, I … I … ” Lady Goodhope seemed quite at a loss for words. “Certainly Lord Goodhope gambled. Yet to such an extent as this? Surely not!”

  “Some,” said Sir John, “have lost far more. You’ll recall, Lady Goodhope, that my first advice to you was to look into Lord Good-hope’s finances. Have you done that yet?”

  “No,” she admitted, her ill temper still somewhat in evidence.

  “But we intend to do it now, certainly,” put in Mr. Donnelly.

  “In any case,” said Lady Goodhope, “that was when you supposed his death to be a suicide. I taught you your error in that.”

  “Ah,” said Sir John, with a bow of his head, “indeed you did, indeed you did.”

  “But could it be,” asked Mr. Donnelly, “that Lady Goodhope is liable for such debts as this one?”

  “Not she,” said Sir John, “but rather Lord Goodhope’s estate. If she wishes to keep it somewhat intact for her own comfort and the prospects of her son, then she must see that her late husband’s debts are paid: even those to which she may have some moral objections, such as this one.”

  “Surely, Sir John—”

  “That is the law, Lady Goodhope,” Sir John interrupted her sternly. “We cannot pick and choose among debt
s. We must pay them all. Again, I can only advise you to look into your late husband’s finances. Find his solicitor. It may well be that this lien held by Mr. Bilbo can be paid from other funds. You have, after all, until the end of the month: better than a week. Use that time.”

  She also put a stern face to him. “To be frank,” said she, “I had been considering quite seriously the thought of selling this house. As I believe I told you previously, this has never been my home. That has always been in Lancashire. This was the place that my husband maintained his city life and, if you will pardon me, held his revels. To it he required me to come a few weeks out of the year, spring and autumn, and the rest of the time it was his. And so, you see, I have no sentiment attached to it. I would gladly sell it, but I’ll not see it given away to some gambler to whom my husband may have owed a few quid.”

  “You count twenty thousand as a few?” asked Sir John, rather severely.

  “That debt has yet to be verified,” said she.

  With that, Sir John rose, dropped his head in a casual salute, and said to her: “Well, Lady Goodhope, I wish you good fortune. I sincerely hope that the matter of verification goes in your favor. But now I must get on with the criminal aspects of this matter. You have on your staff of servants two kitchen helpers by the names of Annie and Meg, family names unknown.”

  “Do we?” She seemed quite ignorant of them. “I was unaware.”

  “I wish to talk to them in that order: Annie first, and then Meg.”

  She fluttered her hand from where she sat. “Let that be known to Potter, or perhaps better, since he is away, to Ebenezer.”

  “Ah yes, Ebenezer Tepper. I wished to ask you about him. He is quite the stranger here, is he not?”

  “Indeed he is.”

  “How came he here, and when?”

  “When? Oh, quite recently, only in the last few days.”

  “And how did that come to pass?”

  “Shortly after I arrived, but ten days past, one of the regular footmen turned up missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “Yes, he simply vanished. To fill the place, I suggested we send to Lancashire for Ebenezer. I make no secret that I am somewhat partial to him. He is a good lad generally, and a year ago he saved my son from bodily harm. My late husband had no objection, in fact seemed quite indifferent in the matter, and so it was done.”

  Sir John stood silent for a long moment. “And why was I not apprised of the disappearance of the footman? What was his name?” he asked at last.

  “I’ve no idea. Servants,” said she with a grand shrug, “they come

  log and go. Do you think it may have some bearing on Lord Goodhope’s death?”

  “It may.”

  “Then it is good that it came out now, though I don’t see how it could matter.”

  “That is my job, Lady Goodhope: to see how things matter.”

  “As you say, Sir John.”

  “I take my leave, then, and thank you.”

  We started for the door accompanied by Mr. Donnelly, who had risen with Sir John and waited patiently for the leave-taking. We paused there as Mr. Donnelly stood, one hand on the knob of the door, and spoke earnestly to Sir John in a low voice.

  “I thank you, sir,” said he, “for speaking reason to her. She has not the slightest notion of how her husband’s accounts stood. I understand from her that you offered names of reliable men who might make a survey of the late Lord Goodhope’s situation. If I could have them now, perhaps I could …”

  “One name only can I supply here and now, that of Moses Martinez. He is a Jew and an honest man. He has a place of business just down from Cheshire Cheese on Fleet Street. I do not recall the number, but he is well known thereabouts.”

  “I shall find it.”

  “Just one question, Mr. Donnelly. Where is the corpus in question?”

  “Lord Goodhope’s? Why, at the embalmer’s. Lady Goodhope has decided to bury him at a cemetery near Grandhill—that is, near the estate in Lancashire. It seeemd appropriate to have him embalmed for the journey.”

  “I see. Well, if she intends to follow soon after for the funeral, I may have to detain her.”

  “I had suspected as much. Sir John. Mr. Martinez may well require her presence, as well.”

  “Indeed.”

  Then, just as Mr. Donnelly made to open the door to ease us into the hall, a knock came upon it. The surgeon swung it wide and revealed Potter standing rigid and erect but somewhat out of breath, as if he had just run a great distance.

  “I have a report for Lady Goodhope,” he announced loudly in a manner most important.

  It seemed to be me who was blocking his way. He frowned me out of his path, and strode to the center of the sitting room.

  “You may deliver your report. Potter,” said she.“There is nothing to hide from these gentlemen.”

  “As you wish, your ladyship. But I fear I bear bad news. I have viewed the document in question, and I must vouch for the signature. It is indeed Lord Goodhope’s. Mr. Bilbo was most cooperative. He also showed me the individual promissory bills. They also bore m’lord’s signature, often not legible and merely scrawled, but indeed they seemed to bear his scrawl.”

  “We shall see,” said she, making of her face a mask without expression.

  “Indeed, your ladvship. There is one more thing, however.”

  “And what is that?”

  “While at the establishment of Mr. Bilbo I chanced to meet Mr. Charles Clairmont, who is known to vou. He was distressed at having just heard of his brother’s death and wishes permission to call on you.”

  “That he may not have,” said she with great certainty. “That Mr. Clairmont may never have.”

  Having heard what I have quoted, Sir John turned from the room and stalked down the hall wdth me in hot pursuit. Catching him up, I found him in a sudden dark temper. He stopped suddenly, growling to himself in a tone I had not heard from him before. I could but wonder at his sudden change. I hesitated, torn between my fear of disturbing him in such a state and my wish to help.

  At last I made bold to offer: “May I do something for you, sir?”

  He turned to me, seething with anger, though not (I was relieved to note) at me. “Jeremv,” said he, “do you recall those intemperate remarks I made but two nights past on the defects of womankind?”

  “Yes sir, I do,” said I.

  “I may have later given the impression that I repented them. / do not! They all obtain!” He slammed his stick down upon the carpet. “W’hat now do we find as addenda to Lady Goodhope’s reluctant account? A missing servant and a materialized brotherl Not one but two surprisesi Well, I tell vou, my bov, I’ve had my fill of surprises. Do you see that pompous ass of a majordomo about?”

  “You mean Potter, sir?”

  “I do indeed. Bring him here.”

  In fact, I did see Potter, for at just that moment he was showing Mr. Donnelly out. I hurried to him and, just as he shut the door, informed him that Sir John wished to talk with him at once. He greeted this with a rather pained expression, but accompanied me halfway down the hall to the point where Sir John had taken his position.

  For the most part, I think you will agree from the samples offered thus far that Sir John Fielding tended to be a rather gentle interrogator. He was not gentle with Potter. He demanded to know the history of Charles Clairmont. Potter exhibited reluctance, pleading discretion in a family matter, but Sir John would have none of that; shaking his stick at him, he threatened him with a charge of impeding a criminal investigation. The butler quailed at that and gave in summary a history of the man in question.

  Charles Clairmont was indeed the brother of the late Lord Good-hope, though a half-brother only. There was no question of him inheriting the title, for a bar sinister separated him from succession. Clairmont, approximately the same age as the late lord, was the son of their father’s London mistress, acknowledged, brought up in good circumstances, with a comfortable fortune settled upon
him at the time of his majority. An ambitious man, he subsequently took that fortune with him to the West Indies where he engaged in commerce with great success. He had returned to London many times since, on each visit exhibiting evidence of his growing riches in the purchases that he made of costly goods for transport back to the Caribbean.

  “And why such hostility between Lady Goodhope and Mr. Clairmont?” demanded Sir John.

  A look passed over Potter’s face which indicated he was about to tell Sir John to ask her ladyship herself about that. But then he thought better of it: “It stems, I believe, from the fact that he attended their wedding uninvited. And because uninvited, he took the occasion to make a drunken commotion that was in no wise seemly. Rather ugly, really. Nevertheless, he and Lord Goodhope had continued to maintain relations over the years of a more or less cordial nature. Mr. Clairmont never failed to call on him during his visits to England, though always in London and never when Lady Goodhope was in residence.”

  “And you chanced to see him at the Bilbo establishment this very morning?”

  “I did, sir, yes.”

  “And what was his business there?”

  “I cannot rightly say. He was not there for gaming. The tables had not opened yet. His business was with the proprietor. It was from him he had learned of Lord Goodhope’s death. He said he had just arrived from the islands.”

  “Where?”

  “He did not say, sir.”

  “Ah, well.” Sir John took but a moment to ruminate over the matter. “If he sought permission to call on Lady Goodhope, he must have given you an address where he might be reached.”

  “Uh, yes, he did, sir: a lodging house of good repute on the Strand. I have it here.”

  The butler began fumbling through his coat.

  “Keep it,” said Sir John. “Send one of the footmen, or go yourself, and convey Lady Goodhope’s harsh message. Tell him, too, that his presence is required in my chambers at Bow Street Court promptly at five o’clock. Mind you, Potter, the word is required. Is that understood?”

  “Understood, yes, sir.” He began shuffling his feet, as if making ready to go.