Since he’d made the effort of coming to London to see her, Clemency was very grateful. She readily accepted Mungo Darwood’s invitation to dine with him. When they met again at a restaurant, she was sad to see, once again, how slowly and painfully he moved. Already afflicted by agonising conditions, his problems had been accentuated by the long, bumpy ride from Norwich. As he lowered himself into his seat, she saw once again how decrepit he now was.
‘Forgive me,’ he said, with a weary smile. ‘You must show me some clemency, Clemency.’
‘I’m just so pleased that we were able to meet again.’
‘As, indeed, am I.’
‘You’re the only one of Father’s friends who agreed to talk to me.’
‘That’s shameful on their part.’
‘It was almost as if my father had contracted leprosy.’
‘He caught something just as bad,’ said Darwood, wryly. ‘It’s a disease called poverty and it can be contagious. Once caught, it may even be fatal. But I have problems of my own to worry about. My memory is like a sieve.’
‘I’m sure that you exaggerate, Mr Darwood.’
‘Talk to my wife. She taxes me about it day after day.’
‘You remembered who I was,’ she said, ‘and that’s all that matters to me.’
‘But it doesn’t, you see. As soon as I left you and Mr Skillen, I recalled things that I should have told you.’
‘What sort of things do you mean?’
‘Let me try to gather in my scattered thoughts and I’ll tell you.’ He needed time to collect himself. ‘You were never really aware of what your father did, were you?’
‘I knew that he was an engineer. That’s all I needed to know.’
‘Had you been a boy, I’ll wager that you’d have been groomed in what is a very honourable profession. George Parry thrived in it. I could show you examples of his genius all over London.’
‘He did take me to see that bridge he designed in Oxford.’
‘It was a miniature work of art. Because of his inventive skills, he stood out from the crowd.’
‘That wouldn’t have made him popular.’
‘He was respected, Clemency. That meant more to him.’
‘What happened to that respect when he really needed it?’
‘One moment,’ he said, reaching in his pocket for a piece of paper. ‘Knowing that you’d ask me that, I wrote down the answer lest I forget it.’ Taking out a pair of spectacles, he put them on. He then extracted a piece of paper from his pocket and studied it. ‘I had letters about him from his former friends. They said that he’d taken to drink out of sorrow.’
‘I was responsible for that sorrow,’ she admitted.
‘That’s untrue. You offered him an olive branch, but he never even got to see it. What I’d forgotten – and it saddens me to relate this – is that your father’s drunkenness cost him dearly. Unable to work, he had no regular income. As a last resort, he decided that the only way to restore his fortunes was to do so at a card table.’
‘But he had no experience of gambling,’ she protested.
‘Exactly – he was a lamb to the slaughter.’
‘He must have been so desperate.’
‘I reckon that George was both desperate and misguided. When his money ran out, he seems to have gambled his house.’
She was heartbroken. ‘He gambled it and lost it?’
‘He did just that, alas.’
After putting the piece of paper away, he removed the spectacles and slipped them into the case before setting it down on the table.
‘If I’d known of his debts, I’d willingly have given him money.’
‘We’d have done the same, Mr Darwood.’
‘That fine, intelligent mind of his must have crumbled. I admired his achievements so much, Clemency. My work was simple compared to his. All that I did was to import goods from abroad. If you keep well informed, there’s no real skill involved in that. What your father created, however, was highly individual. George Parry had a touch of magic.’
‘He spoke so well of you.’
‘I treasured his friendship.’
‘You remembered it, Mr Darwood. Others didn’t.’
‘We’ll see about that, Clemency,’ he said, banging the table with a fist. ‘While I’m here, I’ll make a point of calling on one or two of those “friends”. I may be able to dig some information out of them.’
‘Anything you can find out will be useful.’
‘I’ll pass it on to Mr Skillen. He seems a thoroughly decent fellow and an effective one to boot.’
‘Oh, he is.’
‘How did you come to choose him?’
‘I was acting on the recommendation of someone who works for him. It was the best decision I’ve made since I arrived in London.’
Jenny Pye had worked with her long enough to know by instinct when Hannah wished to be alone or with someone else. Having helped the actress into a change of clothing in preparation for going out, Jenny sensed that it was time to go. Minutes later, Paul arrived. Hannah ran into his arms.
‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t come, I’d be in a state of terror.’
‘There’s no need to fret. You’re among friends.’
‘They can’t reassure me the way that you do.’
‘It’s nice to know that I can do something of value,’ he teased. ‘My advice is that you must stop worrying.’
‘How can I?’ asked Hannah. ‘That man is in Bath.’
‘He can’t touch you when I’m here and, besides, he won’t know where you’re staying.’
‘He kept something back, Paul.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘When he stole that valise of mine, he took something out before he returned everything else.’
‘What was it?’
‘A petticoat. As for the other garments, I’m afraid to put any of them on, knowing that he’s probably examined each one in detail. They’ve been soiled.’
‘Then we need to buy you replacements. Bath has a good reputation for its dressmakers and its sense of fashion. Now, let me take you out and make you forget all about your highwayman with the gleaming boots.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Put on your hat and we can go.’
‘I’ll be ready in a moment,’ she said, buoyed up by his confidence.
Collecting her hat, she walked across to the mirror and put it on with care, adjusting it until it had the desired effect. Hannah crossed to the window to look out at the balmy evening, but she saw instead something that made her shudder. Standing on the opposite side of the road was a man staring up at her room. He seemed eerily familiar. When he saw her appear, he raised his hat in greeting. Hannah backed away, as if reeling from a blow.
‘It’s him,’ she gasped. ‘I’m certain of it.’
‘Where?’ asked Paul, running to the window.
But he was too late. The man had already fled around the corner.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In spite of the number of trials over which he had to preside in the course of a normal day, the chief magistrate always found time to deal with his voluminous correspondence and to read any reports he’d commissioned. One of them was causing him particular anxiety that morning, so he sent for Yeomans and Hale. Thinking they’d been summoned in order to be chastised for failing to recapture Harry Scattergood, the Runners entered the office with trepidation. Yeomans had his excuse ready.
‘We’ve looked high and low for him, sir,’ he said, nervously, ‘but we’ve not seen so much as a whisker of Scattergood. Our sources tell us that he’s left London altogether until the search for him eases off.’
‘It must never ease off,’ insisted Kirkwood.
‘Oh, I agree, sir. We’ll remain vigilant.’
‘As soon as he dares to come back here,’ said Hale, ‘we’ll be waiting for him.’
‘Then he’ll be locked in a cell with two armed officers watching him day and night. He won’t get away agai
n.’
‘I should hope not,’ said Kirkwood. ‘While you’re waiting for Harry Scattergood to sneak back into the capital, I have other work for you to do. It concerns this,’ he went on, waving a sheaf of papers at them. ‘It makes grim reading.’
‘What is it?’ asked Yeomans.
‘It’s a report into one of the most heinous and disgusting of crimes that’s now reached intolerable proportions. It must be checked before it gets completely beyond control.’
‘Are you talking about prostitution, sir?’
‘That’s heinous, in my view,’ said Hale.
‘And it’s certainly disgusting.’
‘What I’m talking about is even worse than that,’ said Kirkwood, slapping the papers down on his desk. ‘I refer to the vile practice of bodysnatching, of trespassing on consecrated ground to dig up the recently deceased in order to sell their corpses. As you know only too well, the law allows the medical profession to have access to the cadavers of executed criminals, but there aren’t enough to satisfy the demand so they look elsewhere.’
‘It’s despicable,’ said Yeomans. ‘Anyone who robs a grave should be buried alive in it.’
‘We have to catch the villains first and that, I fear, has not been happening to any degree. It’s a problem that every city faces. Because they have colleges of surgeons, London and Edinburgh have the highest demand. This report tells me that, in Scotland, there are fiends who, rather than put themselves to the trouble of using a spade, prefer to commit a murder, selecting young, healthy victims because their bodies bring the highest price. It’s happening here as well.’ He hit his desk hard with a fist. ‘It has got to be stopped.’
Hale was confused. ‘You’re not going to send us to Scotland, are you, sir? We have no jurisdiction there.’
‘I want you and your men to concentrate on the problem in London. Funerals happen almost every day. Ghouls lie in wait. Last weekend alone, as many as five bodies were hauled unceremoniously out of their coffins. Imagine the pain and misery that must have caused the families and friends of the deceased.’
‘We’ve met some of them,’ said Yeomans. ‘In one case, a family kept vigil in a churchyard for a full month. The day after they stopped guarding the grave of their dead child, it was opened and plundered.’
‘Undertakers are seeking the legal right to inter in iron,’ observed Hale. ‘I agree with them. The coffins will be much heavier but at least they’ll keep intruders out.’
‘My orders are simple,’ said Kirkwood, looking from one to the other. ‘Stop these raids on the city’s graves. Bring the chief malefactors to me and I’ll make an example of them.’ He offered the report to Yeomans. ‘Read this first. It will tell you how and where these rogues operate.’
‘Leave it to us, sir,’ said the Runner, taking the document from him. ‘We’ll interrupt this foul trade somehow. And when we’ve done that,’ he added, triumphantly, ‘we can have the supreme pleasure of arresting Harry Scattergood.’
Having found his way around St Albans, he soon began to mark out his first potential targets. The town was much smaller than London, so it lacked the teeming crowds into which to disappear and the rookeries into which officers of the law rarely ventured. It was nevertheless irresistible. Having taken a room at a seedy pub down a dark alley, he studied the rough street map he’d drawn and looked at the crosses he’d placed on it. Each one represented a property that had excited his interest. He selected the most tempting of them, then folded his map before slipping it into his pocket. The decision had been made. He’d leave his signature on the town at midnight.
Charlotte Skillen was glad that Clemency van Emden was now staying under their roof, along with her Dutch chaperon. From the moment they first met, she’d liked the woman and was very sympathetic to her plight. The latest twist had exacerbated her pain and bewilderment because Clemency was no longer even certain that her father was actually dead. Charlotte could see the effect of it all etched in the woman’s face. Stress had put years on her.
It was not until after breakfast that the two of them were alone at last. Some gentle probing was now possible.
‘I hope that you slept well,’ said Charlotte.
‘I didn’t sleep at all. I may have dozed off now and then but I spent most of the night simply wondering what was going on. It’s … baffling.’
‘The truth will come out in the end.’
‘I sincerely hope so,’ said Clemency, ‘but I have doubts.’ She forced a smile. ‘It’s so kind of you and Mr Skillen to invite me into your home. Instead of being surrounded by strangers in that hotel, I feel as if I’m among friends.’
‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you wish, Mrs van Emden.’
‘Thank you so much.’
‘Since we have become friends,’ suggested Charlotte, ‘we might even waive the formalities and call each other by our Christian names.’
‘Yes, please,’ said Clemency. ‘I’d like that.’
They were seated opposite each other in the drawing room. While Charlotte was relaxed, however, her companion was tense and drawn.
‘I can see that you’re eager to ask me more questions, Charlotte. Don’t hold back. Please speak out.’
‘Thank you, Clemency. I’ll do just that.’ Charlotte paused to choose the right words. ‘Your marriage interests me. It’s so … unusual.’
‘I married the man I adored. There’s nothing unusual in that.’
‘No, there isn’t,’ agreed Charlotte. ‘I did the same. In your case, however, you acted against the express wishes of your father. There must have been a bitter confrontation at some point.’
‘There was.’
‘Did he refuse you permission to marry?’
‘He did at first. When he saw how resolved I was, he relented, much against his will. But he wouldn’t take part in the service itself.’
‘Who took you to church on his arm to give you away?’
‘My uncle performed that office.’
‘That must have made for more dissension in the family.’
‘I’m afraid that it did. It drove my father and his brother apart. The worst of it was that my uncle died not long after the wedding, so the two of them were never reconciled.’
‘How did you meet your husband?’
Clemency smiled. ‘It was a chance encounter,’ she recalled. ‘Jan was here on business, hoping to buy various items for import. He was invited to dinner at the home of a friend who sold equipment for marine engineering. I happened to be there as well because my father had worked for the host at one point in his career. Everything went well at first, especially for me and Jan. It never occurred to me at the time,’ she said, ‘but the very first glance we exchanged was a form of contract. I was his choice and he was mine. Since my father was bound to disapprove, it had to be a very clandestine romance.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘To begin with, Jan was much older than me and he’d been married before. His first wife was drowned in a terrible accident. They had no children.’
‘That’s a reason to feel sympathy for the man.’
‘Not in my father’s eyes,’ said Clemency. ‘He has this hatred of foreigners. It’s quite irrational. When he realised that I not only wanted to marry a Dutchman but that I was ready to live with him in Amsterdam, he went almost berserk. I was locked in my room for days.’
‘It must have been a trying time.’
‘It was unbearable, Charlotte. I was forced to choose between two men I loved and respected. Whichever path I took, it would have involved great sacrifices. Sadly, I had to lose a dear father.’
‘But you didn’t lose him, Clemency. Remember what Mr Darwood told you. In time, your father came to see that he’d behaved badly and wanted to heal the rift.’
‘I never realised that.’
‘It was only because somebody concealed the truth from you.’
‘My father was kept in the dark as well. He was never allowed to read any of my lett
ers.’
‘My husband will root out the culprit.’
‘He won’t know where to begin.’
‘Peter will find a way somehow,’ said Charlotte, confidently. ‘He always does.’
Peter Skillen’s search began at the former home of George Parry and his family. It was a moderately large house in the middle of a terrace on the edge of a fashionable area of the city. Peter appraised it from the opposite side of the road, wondering what dark secrets it held. Clemency had told him everything she’d learnt from Mungo Darwood, including the way that the house had been recklessly lost at the card table. Peter knew all about the lure of gambling because his own brother had fallen victim to it. During a turbulent period in his life, Paul had often lost more than he could afford to lose, but he’d never been foolish enough to bet his house on the turn of a card. George Parry had done just that, revealing, in doing so, his utter desperation.
When he’d finished studying the house, Peter rang the bell and was soon looking into the face of a short, dapper old man. Peter’s hope that he might have been retained from the original staff was soon dashed. The old man had only been there for a matter of months.
‘We were brought here from our former house,’ he explained.
‘And where was that?’
‘We lived in the country, sir. Do you wish to speak to the master?’
‘I’d rather talk to you. I’m trying to track someone down and you may be able to help me.’
‘That’s very unlikely, sir. I’m a stranger here.’
‘Before your master moved in, you must have been sent ahead to prepare the house.’ The old man nodded. ‘I daresay that some of the original servants were here.’
‘There were two of them, sir.’
‘Can you remember their names?’
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