Fugitive From the Grave

by Edward Marston

  ‘Let me hear it.’

  ‘We’re going to meet cunning with cunning.’

  He went on to describe the scheme that had been devised, making it sound as if it was entirely his idea. Hale had a vestigial pity for Chevy Ruddock, the true author of the plan, but he didn’t dare to voice it. Yeomans could be vindictive. Having heard him out with a mixture of patience and head-bobbing approval, Corke pronounced his judgement.

  ‘It’s a wonderful plan, Mr Yeomans.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It has the virtues of simplicity and effectiveness.’

  ‘Does that mean you’d allow us to use your churchyard?’

  ‘In theory,’ said Corke, ‘I’d be happy for you to do so but your idea is rather redundant here. If you’ll forgive a rather crude comparison, it’s a case of closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Hale.

  ‘One of our graves has already been robbed. We’ll be more vigilant in future. We don’t wish to lose anyone else entrusted to our care.’

  ‘You’ve been a victim yourself?’ said Yeomans, with interest. ‘Tell us the details and we’ll do our best to catch the villains responsible.’

  ‘As it happens, someone has already taken on that task.’

  ‘It’s a crime that only we are best placed to solve.’

  ‘The gentleman swore that he’d find the culprits,’ said Corke, ‘and I believed him. He spoke with such resolve.’

  ‘And who was this gentleman you mention?’

  ‘A Mr Skillen.’

  Yeomans was stunned. ‘Peter Skillen?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You were wrong,’ said Hale. ‘It looks as if Peter Skillen has started chasing grave robbers, after all.’

  When he returned to the Red Cow that afternoon, Peter travelled by Hackney cab so that he could bring Abigail Saunders back to his home in comfort. The inn was noisier than ever and she was glad to escape its pandemonium. Seeing how apprehensive she was, he spent the journey trying to calm her nerves and prepare her for what was to come.

  ‘You’ll find Mrs van Emden much changed.’

  ‘I’ll still be pleased to see her again, Mr Skillen.’

  ‘She remembers all of the servants’ names and told me that it was a very happy house.’

  ‘Oh, it was – if only it could have stayed like that.’

  ‘Things change as time passes. That’s inevitable.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘When I met you earlier,’ he recalled, ‘I asked you to rack your brains to see if there’s anything you can remember about the other members of staff that might make it easy to track them down.’

  ‘I tried very hard,’ she said, ‘but there’s nothing.’

  ‘Can’t you remember if they talked about their families?’

  ‘Two of them didn’t have families, sir. They were orphans. We all thought that we were part of a family at Mr Parry’s house.’

  ‘You talk of him as a kind man, yet he tried to lock his daughter away when he learnt about her romance. That doesn’t sound like an act of kindness.’

  ‘He thought he was doing the best for her.’

  ‘And what did you think?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I thought, sir.’

  ‘You must have taken sides, surely?’

  ‘Most of us wouldn’t have dared to do that.’

  ‘What about Joseph Rafter?’

  ‘He was different.’

  ‘In what way?’

  There was a pause. ‘You’ll have to speak to him.’

  Because of his relationship with Hannah Granville, Paul was on the fringes of the theatrical world, but he still didn’t understand its strange rules or speak its overblown language. Actors and actresses seemed to thrive on hyperbole, exchanging extravagant greetings whenever they met, yet falling out with each other at will and indulging in bitter feuds. Competition between them was fierce. Much as he loved Hannah, he’d come to accept that she was prone to rash judgements, dividing people into lifelong friends or hated enemies. No middle ground existed. In every production in which she took part, there’d been someone she identified as her bête noir. Most recently, it had been the author of The Piccadilly Opera who’d aroused her ire so much that she’d had a tantrum at almost every rehearsal. In the end, she reached a point where she refused to continue unless he stayed well away from the theatre. The war of attrition between actress and playwright had reduced the manager of the theatre to tears.

  Paul suspected that Vernon Teale would be made of sterner stuff. Behind the flamboyant manner and the beaming amiability, he sensed that there was a shrewd businessman well versed in dealing with the demands of egotistical actors and distraught actresses. In one way, he was glad that Hannah had asked him to speak on her behalf. It showed how much she trusted him and gave him the opportunity to find a compromise that would enable them to remain in Bath, where she’d play Rosalind and he’d have the opportunity to catch the highwayman who’d robbed her. In another way, however, he wished that she’d fought this particular battle on her own because he simply didn’t understand the subtleties of negotiating with a theatre manager.

  When he stepped into Teale’s office, therefore, he did so with some misgivings. Hannah had told him exactly what she expected, but Paul felt that she was asking far too much. He vowed to take a more cautious approach.

  ‘Come on in, Mr Skillen,’ said Teale, motioning him to a seat.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Teale.’

  ‘Do you come on your own account, or are you here as an emissary of Miss Granville?’

  ‘Hannah asked me to speak to you.’

  ‘Then you do so as a much-envied man, sir. Miss Granville’s fabled beauty has dazzled every actor in the cast. They look at you with a mixture of wonder and resentment because of your privileged position in her affections. I congratulate you on your good fortune.’

  ‘I’m not here to talk about myself, Mr Teale. What happens between Hannah and me is a private matter. What happens between you and her, however, affects the future prospects of your theatre.’

  Teale’s smile faded. ‘The dear lady is unhappy in some way?’

  ‘I fear that she’s distressed.’

  ‘Tell me the problem and I’ll deal with it immediately.’

  ‘I sincerely hope that that will be possible.’

  ‘I can deny her nothing,’ said the other, with a sweeping gesture.

  ‘You may change your mind when you hear what she wants.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I like the sound of that,’ said Teale, eyelids narrowing. ‘I’m a very reasonable man, but I must warn you not to go beyond the bounds of reason.’

  ‘Warnings are unnecessary,’ said Paul, firmly. ‘Please remember that I am only the messenger here.’

  ‘Then be so kind as to deliver Miss Granville’s message.’

  ‘It concerns Miss Ingram.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Hannah feels that you deliberately misled her in one respect. When you submitted your cast list to her, the part of Celia had been given to someone else.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Teale. ‘Miss Doyle was my first choice for the role. Until two days ago, I fully expected her to join the company. Then word came that she was seriously ill and had lost her voice into the bargain. Compelled to find someone else at short notice, I chose Miss Ingram.’

  ‘Hannah strongly objects to your choice.’

  ‘For what reason, may I ask?’

  ‘There’s a history of dissension between the two ladies.’

  ‘That’s not what Miss Ingram told me,’ said Teale. ‘She adores Miss Granville and feels honoured to play opposite her. Well, you were at the reading. Didn’t you think that she was a perfect Celia?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I did,’ said Paul.

  ‘Miss Granville can’t possibly object to her abilities.’

  ‘There are personal issues at stake here,’ said
Paul, uncomfortably. ‘What they are in detail, I don’t rightly know. I’m simply telling you that the future of As You Like It will only be secure if Miss Ingram leaves the cast and is replaced by someone else.’

  Teale received the news with apparent equanimity but, beneath the calm exterior, he was extremely annoyed. He was grateful that Paul had been sent with the demand. A confrontation with his leading lady would have been considerably more fraught. Paul’s manner made the discussion far less hostile.

  ‘The message you may take back to Miss Granville,’ said the manager, quietly, ‘is that she should be grateful to Miss Ingram. To get the services of someone of her quality in what was an unlooked-for emergency was a gift from God. Had she not been prepared to step in, we’d have been left stranded. As a last resort, we’d have had to fall back on some unseasoned beginner who could never hold her own onstage against Hannah Granville.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘That is my message, Mr Skillen.’

  ‘Then I am to give you a reply,’ said Paul.

  ‘But you haven’t delivered it to Miss Granville.’

  ‘I know what she will say, Mr Teale, and I regret having to tell you what it is. Unless Miss Ingram departs, you will lose your Rosalind.’

  Teale took a few moments to absorb the news. Then he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a document, glancing at it before passing it across to Paul.

  ‘What is it?’ asked the latter.

  ‘It’s the contract that Miss Granville signed. Can you confirm that that is her signature?’

  Paul looked at the bold calligraphy. ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘Then I ask you to do two things for me, please,’ said Teale, taking the contract back and putting it away. ‘The first thing is to apologise to Miss Granville for inadvertently employing someone whose presence in the cast is not to her liking.’

  ‘And what’s the second?’

  ‘Tell her this contract is legally enforceable.’

  Paul stiffened. ‘Don’t try to scare Hannah.’

  ‘I am merely drawing her attention to our agreement.’

  ‘If you threaten her, she’ll leave Bath within the hour.’

  ‘Is she aware of what the consequences will be, Mr Skillen?’

  ‘They don’t worry her in the least.’

  ‘Well, they should,’ said Teale, his tone hardening. ‘Miss Granville will not only be sued by me, her reputation will be damaged so much that she’ll have difficulty finding anyone else to employ her. To put it bluntly, she must play Rosalind with the cast we have or risk being ousted from the profession.’ He became almost avuncular. ‘You’ve been put in an awkward position, Mr Skillen, and I sympathise with you. I’ve had more experience of dealing with people like Miss Granville, creatures of such abundant talent that they rise effortlessly above everyone else whenever they take on a new role. Almost to a woman, however, they tend to be both passionate and capricious. I’ve yet to deal with a leading lady who didn’t make intemperate demands simply to flex her muscles. I fear that that is what Miss Granville is doing.’

  Paul sat there motionless for some time as he weighed up the manager’s comments. Then he extended a hand.

  ‘I’d like to read the terms of that contract,’ he said.

  After delivering Abigail Saunders to his house, Peter went off in search of another of the former servants. He’d expected Clemency to speak to Abigail alone but she wanted Charlotte to remain, even though her presence might inhibit the servant. All three of them settled down in the drawing room, Abigail perching nervously on the edge of the chair. After an exchange of pleasantries, Clemency asked for an account her father’s life after she had left for Amsterdam. Slow of speech and meek of manner, Abigail was nevertheless able to give a clear picture of how George Parry had fared in the wake of his daughter’s marriage. It was a tale of loneliness and decline. Parry had suffered. It was clear to all of the servants that he was having second thoughts. Full of regret at the way he’d treated his only child, he’d written letters of apology and implored her to forgive him.

  ‘It was Joseph’s job to send the letters off,’ she said.

  ‘And he’d also have been the first to see any correspondence that came to the house,’ observed Clemency. ‘Isn’t that so, Abigail?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘He’d be far too honest to tamper with it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Abigail, less readily. ‘He would.’

  ‘I thought that he was dismissed,’ recalled Charlotte. ‘Why was that, Abigail? Did he upset Mr Parry in some way?’

  ‘I think it was the other way around, Mrs Skillen.’

  ‘What did Mr Parry do?’

  ‘He lowered Joseph’s wages. It was the same for all of us, mind you, and we had to accept it. Joseph didn’t. He refused to do the same work for less money so Mr Parry sent him on his way.’

  ‘Was he replaced?’

  ‘Oh, no, the master couldn’t afford to do that. He’d stopped working and was starting to drink a lot. It made him short-tempered with us and that wasn’t like him at all.’

  ‘It certainly wasn’t,’ agreed Clemency. ‘He loved his work. I can’t believe that he gave it up. What did he do all day?’

  ‘He just moped around the house, Mrs van Emden.’

  ‘It must have been very unpleasant for all of you.’

  ‘Mr Parry was in pain. We could see that. All we could do was carry on with our duties.’

  As she listened to the servant’s sad tale, Charlotte was very sorry for George Parry, but it was Clemency who was deeply moved. The contrast was stark. While she had gone on to forge a new life with a caring husband, her father had reached a point where he’d felt his existence was worthless. His descent had been swift. When Abigail finally came to the end of her recitation, Clemency’s eyes were full of tears. The poignancy of the situation was too much to bear. Guilt was overwhelming her once more. In deserting her father, she’d taken away his reason for living.

  It was the horse that bore the brunt of his anger. As he drove the gig, Yeomans was so enraged at the news that Peter Skillen was in competition with him yet again that he used the whip hard on the animal’s rump. In the end, Hale had to plead on the horse’s behalf.

  ‘There’s no need to flay the creature, Micah.’

  ‘Peter Skillen is the one I’d like to flay.’

  ‘You always say that Paul Skillen is worse.’

  ‘The pair of them are damnable nuisances, Alfred. We can’t seem to do anything without one or the other getting in our way.’

  ‘It’s just a coincidence that Peter Skillen went to that church in Islington. He may think he’s more intelligent than any of us, yet I’ll wager he doesn’t have a plan like the one Chevy Ruddock suggested.’ He gasped in pain as he was elbowed sharply. ‘I know that it was your idea as well, Micah.’

  ‘Ruddock stole it from me.’

  ‘Yes, yes … of course he did.’

  ‘It was my inspiration and mine alone.’

  ‘You have much keener instincts than him.’

  ‘And I have a better knowledge of the criminal mind.’

  ‘You put Chevy in the shade.’

  ‘Don’t let me hear his ridiculous name on your lips again.’

  ‘No, no, it’s a promise.’ They came to a fork in the road and swung off to the right. ‘We came here on the other road, Micah.’

  ‘That’s why we’re going back by another route. There’s no point in travelling any further away from the city. This road will get us back there in due course. Meanwhile, we must hope we find another country church with a vicar as willing to help us as the Reverend Corke.’

  ‘I’m sure we will,’ said Hale, with confidence. ‘Bodysnatchers are vermin. Any parish priest with an ounce of sense ought to rush to put your brilliant plan into action.’

  ‘It’s not as if there’s anything that’s offensive to the church. We don’t need a mock funeral service inside the building – that would be blasphemous. I know how these gangs work,
’ said Yeomans. ‘They’re constantly on the lookout for signs of a forthcoming burial. They keep a constant watch on churchyards near and far.’

  ‘All we need to tempt them is a hole in the ground.’

  ‘Peter and Paul Skillen would never think of a trick like that.’

  ‘No, Micah, they don’t have your brain.’

  They rolled on over the bumpy surface until a distant steeple came in sight. Yeomans had an upsurge of optimism.

  ‘We’ve found the right church at last,’ he said, sitting up. ‘I feel it in my bones.’

  Hannah Granville couldn’t understand why Paul had been gone for such a long time. In her mind, all that he had to do was deliver her ultimatum, wait for a reply, then bring it back to her. She was not only eager to hear that her command had been obeyed by the manager, she wanted Paul beside her. Alone in her hotel room, she felt uneasy. She was too afraid to look out of the window in case the highwayman was keeping her under surveillance, and so nervous that – whenever the floorboard creaked outside her room – she drew back from it as if an interloper was about to batter his way in. While she regretted sending Paul on an errand she could have done herself, she believed that her decision had been a sound one. It was unwise to have a confrontation with the manager so early in the proceedings. She was far better off staying in the shadows and using an intermediary. Vernon Teale worshipped her, she told herself. He’d be glad to comply with her demand.

  Yet there was still no word from Paul. A new fear arose. Had he been intercepted and stopped from reaching her? Did his position as her bodyguard make him a target? She remembered how Roderick Cosgrove, another man appointed to look after her, had been shot when trying to defend her. Would Paul meet a similar fate? Hannah was working herself up into a state of hysteria when she suddenly heard footsteps ascending the stairs outside. The floorboard on the landing creaked, but this time the footsteps didn’t continue. Someone had stopped outside the door. Knuckles rapped on the wood. There was something assertive about the knocking and it made her scurry to the far side of the room. After a few moments, the door was rapped even harder.