The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

by Sarah Mallory

  Wolf met his eye. ‘Sir Charles Urmston. I foolishly thought he might have information that could help me, so I told him how to reach me.’

  ‘By Jove, that makes perfect sense!’ exclaimed Richard. ‘But how did he know where to find the woman?’

  ‘I am not sure,’ said Wolf slowly. ‘I know he was looking for Annie Meesden, because he asked me if I knew anything of her. I did not tell him and I made sure we were not followed when we went to see her the other day. So either he picked up her trail or—’

  He broke off, but it was too late.

  ‘Or someone told him her direction,’ said Grace. She put her hands to her face, a look of horror shadowing her eyes. ‘If only I had not pressed you to set up a pension for her.’

  Richard looked from one to the other. ‘What is this?’

  ‘After we had seen Meesden I persuaded your brother to arrange a small annuity for her,’ explained Grace. ‘For that he had to tell his lawyer where she was living.’

  ‘There is nothing to say Baylis passed on that information,’ said Wolf quickly.

  Grace shook her head. ‘You said yourself this man, Urmston, first came up to you directly outside the offices of Baylis & Thistle and at that stage—apart from Aunt Eliza and myself—the only person who knew you were in London was your lawyer. Perhaps it was inadvertently done.’

  ‘Whatever it was I think the Arrandales will be finding themselves another lawyer,’ exclaimed Wolf wrathfully.

  ‘Yes, well, I have been thinking that myself,’ said Richard. ‘I have suspected for years that Baylis has been creaming off the profits from your estate but nothing could be proved, and with you still nominally head of the family I couldn’t turn him off, either. I will deal with him, don’t worry, but for now we need to get you out of here.’

  ‘You won’t do it. Hatcham as good as told me last night I am here until my trial.’

  And he expects me to hang.

  He stopped himself from saying the words aloud and he met Richard’s eye, sending him a silent message not to give Grace any more reason to worry.

  His brother nodded. ‘We shall make enquiries on your behalf, Wolf. Our first call will be Meesden’s lodgings. Miss Duncombe has a gown to collect and we shall see if we can learn anything there.’

  ‘Good,’ said Wolf. ‘You had best find Kennet, too. He will be at my rooms in Half Moon Street. Tell him what has occurred and ask him to bring some money. At least I may buy some comforts in this hellhole.’

  He was giving them directions when a burly turnkey came in to tell them their time was up.

  Wolf rose. He nodded to Grace, not trusting himself to go near her. Then he turned and gripped his brother’s hand. ‘Do what you can for me, Richard, and you had best engage another lawyer with all speed!’

  * * *

  Grace pulled her veil over her face and accompanied Richard Arrandale from the building. Her legs felt very weak and she was relieved when they were once more sitting in the carriage with Lady Phyllida. The sight of Wolf, unshaven, his eyes troubled and still wearing his bloody evening clothes, had shaken her to the core. Until then his predicament as a wanted man had seemed a distant threat, but as they drove away her eyes were drawn upwards to the roof of the prison and the black timbers of the scaffold, outlined against a lowering sky.

  ‘We cannot let him hang.’

  She did not realise she had spoken the words aloud until Richard replied.

  ‘He won’t, you need not worry about that. The Arrandales have had plenty of practice at cheating the gallows.’ When her eyes flew to his face he added quickly, ‘We will do the thing by fair means, if we can, but if not—’

  She put up her hand.

  ‘Please, do not tell me anything more.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Phyllida. ‘Pray do not burden us with unnecessary conjecture, Richard.’ She turned to Grace. ‘Would you like to go back to Hans Place now? We can collect your gown for you, if you would rather not be mixed up further in this affair.’

  Grace clasped her hands together and stared out of the window, but all she could see was Wolf’s haunted eyes.

  ‘I do not have any choice,’ she murmured, almost to herself. ‘I must see this through.’

  * * *

  They drove quickly to Half Moon Street to speak to Wolf’s valet and then went on to Leg Alley. It was just as grim and daunting as it had appeared at Grace’s first visit. Richard insisted his wife remain in the carriage while he and Grace picked their way through the rubbish to the house. The door was closed, but Richard’s firm rap upon the weathered boards brought a plump, sharp-eyed woman in a grubby apron to open it. She declared she was the landlady and demanded to know their business.

  ‘I have come to collect a gown from Mrs Meesden,’ Grace explained.

  The woman shook her head.

  ‘She’s dead. Murdered.’ She said it with such relish that Grace did not have to feign her look of horror.

  ‘Good heavens, when was this?’

  ‘Last night. She went off to Vauxhall with her man friend and never came back. He’s been arrested for her murder.’

  Richard’s brows went up. ‘The fellow came here?’

  The landlady leaned against the wall and folded her arms.

  ‘Aye. I told the constables as much. He called late in the afternoon and they stayed upstairs ’til about nine o’clock. She said she had work to finish, but if you ask me they was carousing, for she was so drunk she could hardly get down the stairs when they left. He almost carried her out.’

  ‘How dreadful, but I should still like to retrieve my gown,’ said Grace. ‘It is a yellow muslin with green embroidery at the hem. Perhaps I might step in and look for it?’

  Richard held out a coin. ‘I assure you, madam, we want only to collect the lady’s property.’

  The landlady’s hand darted out to take the coin.

  ‘Aye, well, I don’t suppose it will do any harm if I takes you up there now.’

  She waddled away and they followed her up to Annie Meesden’s tiny room. Grace tried to take in as much detail as possible. It looked more untidy than she remembered, a chair was tipped over and on the table stood two glasses and an almost empty bottle that Richard picked up and held to his nose.

  ‘Was the lady in the habit of drinking brandy?’

  ‘Not that I knew of. If she had been I’d have sent her packing long ago. This is a respectable house.’

  ‘And the man who came to see her, was he a regular visitor?’ he asked.

  ‘Never seen him before, but then I don’t see everyone who comes and goes. As long as my tenants is quiet and pays their rent I don’t interfere.’

  ‘But you saw the man who called yesterday,’ Richard pressed her. ‘Was he as tall as I am? Taller, perhaps?’

  The landlady regarded him with her sharp eyes but said nothing. Richard pulled another coin from his pocket. ‘Well?’

  ‘No, sir, he wasn’t as tall as you.’ The money disappeared into her pudgy hand. ‘Fashionable swell, though. Handsome. Black shiny hair and a fine set o’ whiskers.’

  ‘And you would be willing to swear to this in court?’

  Immediately the woman looked wary and Richard said impatiently, ‘Surely the constables asked you to describe the fellow?’

  ‘No, sir. They said there was no need. They said her killer was locked up right and tight. Now, is that your dress on the table, madam? Yellow muslin with green stitching, you said. Mrs Meesden was working on it when I showed her gentleman friend upstairs.’

  ‘Yes, that is it,’ said Grace.

  The gown was neatly folded and weighted down with Meesden’s Bible.

  ‘Well, you should take it and go. I’ve got to clear this room today, I’ve another tenant wanting to move in.’

  The
landlady ushered them out of the room and down the stairs, closing the door behind them with a bang. Richard took Grace’s arm and escorted her back to their carriage.

  ‘Well,’ demanded Phyllida as they set off. ‘What did you learn?’

  Grace said slowly, ‘Meesden’s visitor was not your brother-in-law.’

  Richard agreed. ‘The description the landlady gave us does fit Charles Urmston, though. I think he wrote the note to Wolf, then came here to take Meesden to Vauxhall, where he killed her.’

  Grace frowned. ‘That is a serious allegation, Mr Arrandale.’

  ‘I know but I believe he would do it.’

  ‘Perhaps, if the dresser knew things that would implicate him in your sister-in-law’s murder.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly, Miss Duncombe.’

  She sat upright and said with sudden decision, ‘We must talk to Wolfgang again.’

  ‘Now?’ Richard looked at his watch. ‘The day is well advanced. Your aunt will be expecting you.’

  Wolf’s image swam before Grace’s eyes and she clasped her hands together, as if in supplication. ‘I have the strongest feeling we should tell your brother our suspicions. Immediately.’

  Phyllida touched her husband’s arm. ‘We have two footmen up behind us, my dear. One of them could be sent to inform Mrs Graham that we will be delayed.’

  ‘But is it not too much for you, love?’ he asked her. ‘We have been gadding about all day.’

  Phyllida smiled. ‘I have been sitting at my ease in a coach, Richard. I am not at all tired, I promise you.’

  With a nod Richard jumped out to issue instructions to his servants and Grace gave Phyllida a grateful look, then was immediately assailed by doubt. Was she allowing her growing attraction to Wolf Arrandale to cloud her judgement? Perhaps she just wanted to see him again. It was late, she should go home, but the feeling persisted that they should talk to him. She comforted herself with the fact that the others had not argued strongly against it and soon they were crossing the river again, heading for the prison.

  They travelled in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, but as they were approaching the Sessions House Richard sat up, staring out of the window.

  ‘I think we might have to revise our plans.’

  There was something in his voice that alerted Grace and she followed his glance. Coming out of the coffee house on the corner of the street was the magistrate, Gilbert Hatcham, accompanied by a fashionably dressed gentleman. They stopped on the pavement to take leave of one another and the gentleman removed his hat to display his thick black hair and a fine set of whiskers. A cold chill settled over Grace.

  ‘Is that Sir Charles Urmston?’ she asked, her throat growing dry.

  ‘It is indeed,’ muttered Richard. ‘And he looks to be on the best possible terms with the magistrate.’

  Chapter Nine

  The officers in the prison were surprised to see Grace and Richard back again so soon, but a few coins slipped into waiting palms gained them immediate access. This time they were escorted to the cells, ranged along a corridor with numerous heavy wooden doors on one side, each with a small grille through which the prisoner might be observed.

  ‘Welcome to my new abode,’ said Wolf, when they were shown in and the door firmly locked behind them. ‘Did you see Kennet on your way in? He left only a short time ago.’ He looked about him. ‘An excellent valet. He brought me fresh clothes as well as my purse, which has purchased me this cell. It isn’t a palace, but at least it has a window and blankets on the bed. And I have a table and chair, so pray be seated, Miss Duncombe. Perhaps I could see if they can provide tea...’

  ‘Stop playing the fool,’ said Richard impatiently. ‘We do not have time for this.’

  ‘No, of course.’ Wolf sobered immediately. ‘Did you discover anything at Meesden’s lodgings?’

  Wolf listened intently to his brother’s recital of what they had found and at the end his countenance was forbidding.

  ‘I am more than ever convinced that Urmston is behind all this,’ he muttered.

  ‘I am certain of it,’ retorted Richard. ‘We have just seen him coming out of the coffee house with the magistrate. They looked as thick as thieves.’

  ‘Well, that explains why he lured me to Southwark to meet Meesden,’ said Wolf. ‘He wanted me delivered up to Hatcham, whom he could trust to keep me locked away until the trial. That way I have little chance to prove my innocence.’

  ‘Then we must do so,’ said Grace. ‘We could advertise, put up bills asking for witnesses to the murder, offer a reward.’

  ‘I doubt you would have any success,’ Wolf replied. ‘We would need nothing short of a full confession from the real killer for a jury to find me not guilty.’

  ‘We are pretty sure who it is, so I will extract one from the villain!’ was Richard’s savage response.

  Wolf shook his head. ‘Urmston will have thought of that. He will be on his guard, ready to use any attempt to intimidate him as further evidence of my guilt. By heaven, I begin to think it will take a miracle to extricate myself from this fix!’

  Richard laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘We shall get you out of here, Wolfgang, never fear. I expect our great-aunt Sophia to be in London very soon.’

  ‘That is good news,’ declared Grace. ‘The support of the Dowager Marchioness of Hune can only help our cause.’

  She looked so much more cheerful that Wolf kept silent, but he doubted even Lady Hune’s money and influence could help him now.

  ‘If only we knew who stole the diamonds,’ he exclaimed. ‘That would be one less charge to contend.’

  ‘But Meesden said they were not stolen,’ Grace reminded him.

  ‘Aye, so she did.’ Wolf paced the small cell, his brow furrowing as the thoughts chased through his head. ‘Perhaps...’

  ‘Perhaps they are still at Arrandale,’ said Grace, her face lighting up.

  ‘But if Meesden knew where, Urmston may have forced her to tell him,’ argued Richard.

  ‘There is that,’ said Wolf. ‘But he won’t have had a chance to get them. Richard, you must go to Arrandale immediately. Urmston will remain in town until his tame magistrate has committed me for trial, but once he knows I am safely locked up he will go in search of the necklace.’

  Richard shook his head. ‘I need to be here with you. I’ll ask Lady Hune to go directly to Arrandale.’

  ‘By heaven, Richard, you cannot do that, Sophia is an old lady.’

  ‘But she is indomitable, Brother, and she has a large and impressive retinue to protect her. If I explain everything, she will keep the villain out.’

  The distant chime of a clock floated in through the unglazed window. Wolf looked up.

  ‘Is Phyllida waiting in the carriage, Richard? You should go. Do not worry about me, there is nothing more to be done tonight.’

  Grace rose and held out her hand. It fluttered like a wild bird in his grasp.

  ‘I shall come back tomorrow, sir.’

  ‘You would be advised to stay away.’ He saw the obstinate set of her mouth and added, ‘Truly, such attention would give rise to speculation. I would not have you become the subject of such gossip.’

  Her head went up. ‘I will take that risk.’

  Wolf knew he should forbid her to come, but for the life of him the words would not pass his lips. She was the one glimmer of light in his sorry, sordid history and he could not bear to lose it. Not yet.

  When they had gone Wolf sat for a while, thinking over all they had told him, and when the warder arrived with his dinner he gave him a message for the magistrate.

  * * *

  Kennet brought Wolf’s breakfast the following morning, together with the latest newssheets and more fresh clothes. Once he was washed and dressed, Wolf dismissed his man and
settled down to await his visitor. Noon passed, then one o’clock. Two. Wolf was lying on his bed staring at the square of blue sky through the little window when at last the door of his cell opened. He sat up.

  ‘Good of you to call, Sir Charles.’

  Urmston sauntered in, a monogrammed handkerchief clutched in his hand. The cloying scent that wafted into the cell with him suggested he had soaked the linen in perfume as protection against the noisome odours of the prison. He glanced about him, a look of distaste on his florid features.

  ‘Hatcham said you wanted to see me. I had an appointment with my tailor and could not come this morning. However—’ he gave a mocking smile ‘—I knew you were not going anywhere.’

  ‘Aye,’ growled Wolf. ‘Thanks to you I am incarcerated in this cell and likely to be here for some time.’ He decided to go directly to the attack. ‘Why did you give Hatcham that poster for my arrest?’

  Sir Charles spread his hands.

  ‘My dear Arrandale, I merely brought it to his attention, as any law-abiding citizen would do.’

  ‘Law-abiding?’ Wolf’s lip curled. He rose, towering over the man. ‘You killed Meesden, did you not?’

  Urmston stepped back, but his cold, humourless smile did not falter.

  ‘You were caught with the knife in your hand and her blood all over you. No one will believe you did not murder her.’

  ‘But we both know I did not do it. And what about my wife?’ asked Wolf. He glanced at the closed door. ‘Come, man, now I am safely locked up, will you not tell me the truth?’

  ‘I will tell you nothing!’ Urmston spat out the words, his usual mask of urbanity slipping, but only for a moment. He looked down, tracing a crack in the floor with his silver-topped cane. ‘Is this why you wanted to see me, to try to foist the blame for your crimes upon me?’

  ‘I am innocent and you know it.’

  ‘But who will believe you?’ purred Urmston. ‘There are at least a dozen witnesses to testify against you and I am sure by now some of them even believe they saw you plunge the knife into that poor woman. And what could any character witnesses say on your behalf? You were hardly a model of propriety before you fled to France, were you? No, Arrandale, you will hang. And soon, I promise you. Now, if that is all I am off to my dinner.’ He lifted his cane to rap upon the door, then paused to say with studied indifference, ‘By the by, when you called on Meesden, did she tell you what had happened to the Sawston diamonds?’