When he at last reached Mr. Lassimer’s shop, he felt as chilled as if he had crossed miles of winter heathland, though he had walked barely two hundred yards on a spring day. Since it was Sunday, of course, the shop was closed. For a moment, he thought he should not intrude on his friend's leisure. Then he shook his head and banged on the door. He needed help and he knew it would not be begrudged.
Adam found Lassimer making good use of the time in his compounding room. Such terrible weather always brought on on a rush of head colds and problems with the lungs. His stock of remedies therefore needed to be replenished in advance. Bad weather might be dangerous for most people, but it was very good for apothecaries’ profits.
Letting Adam into his shop, Lassimer left off his work at once and called for Anne to warm a jug of good mulled ale for them both. ‘You are chilled to the bone, I don’t doubt,’ he said. ‘Indeed, I feel cold enough from looking at you. A draught of mulled ale will restore us both. You have news? It must be so, and news of some moment, or you would not have left your fireside in weather such as this.’
‘I do indeed have news,’ Adam said, ‘but I will wait for your pretty servant to bring our ale before I speak further. Once I begin, I cannot risk such distraction as she offers.’
Lassimer clapped his hands with mirth at that. ‘That's better. It may be Sunday, but there is no call here to be solemn as a Presbyterian elder. Is not Hannah Neston your maidservant? I declare she is one of the daintiest creatures in the county. She came in here the other day on an errand and I marvelled that she could work for such as you. I warrant you pay her no greater regard than you might a dog or a cat.’
‘I am well aware of her charms, my friend,’ Adam said. ‘Yet she is under my protection and deserves respect as well. If I wish her to treat me as master, I cannot treat her as other than a servant. But look, here is Anne with our drinks. Thank you, my dear. I do not know how you suffer to serve my most provoking colleague here, but I am glad that you do.’
‘I am never provoking am I, Anne?’ Lassimer said. ‘I am always the kindest and most considerate of masters.’
Anne was much too wise in the ways of menfolk to be tempted into any reply. She put down the ale, bobbed a graceful curtsey and bestowed upon each of them a smile of pure innocence as she left the room.
‘Alas,’ Lassimer said, ‘I grow too fond of her. Still, a bout or two with a choice widow should set me right again.’
‘Do you wish to hear my news,’ Adam said, ‘or do you prefer to spend the time boasting of your conquests?’
‘Begin!’ Lassimer replied at once.
Lassimer’s response to the news Adam related was everything he could have hoped for. His friend gasped several times. Twice he cried out ‘Damn me!’ And, at the conclusion, he gulped down a mighty draught of ale before throwing himself back in his chair and crying, ‘Enough! My head will burst with all your questions and speculations.’
‘So what do you make of it?’ Adam asked.
‘Make of it? Why, Bascom, the answer to the mystery of the man’s death is plain enough. Your archdeacon blundered into a smuggling gang that night. So they dealt with him, lest he alert the authorities to their actions. The blackguards must then have taken fright and fled the scene. I dare say the authorities already had a plan to set a trap for the rogues. Now the archdeacon’s death made fair to wreck it. Because of that, the smugglers would expect too great an interest to be given to Gressington. Only when the fuss had died down would they risk returning to their business.’
‘No accident, then,’ Adam said.
‘By no means, though that crooked constable tried to declare it so. He doubtless hoped to avoid anyone asking questions about who else might be abroad that night.’
‘Yet why did the authorities not frustrate this intention?’
‘Because it was a godsend to them. The authorities wanted no enquiries either. Every stranger sniffing around that village would delay their trap longer. In such places, all who have a right be be there are known. A strange face stands out at once, like a blackamore amongst Englishmen.’
‘They simply wanted no fuss?’
‘None whatsoever’ Lassimer said. ‘The inquest made the verdict of accidental death official and everyone assumed the story had reached its end. Then, after some weeks had passed, they judged that the smugglers must feel safe again and would be keen to get back to work. In case they still hesitated, the authorities tried to reassure them further. This they did by spreading tales of the supposed raids at Lynn. The smugglers took the bait and the dragoons and Revenue men sprang the trap. Simple. It explains all. We know now why the constable exclaimed at once that the death must be an accident. We know why the coroner made certain that his jury returned the required verdict of accidental death. We even know why the magistrate acted as he did. Each one, in his way, has received his due reward.’
Adam rubbed his chin. His manner of shaving that morning had left enough stubble to make him feel uncomfortable.‘It is not what this explains that bothers me,’ he said after a moment. ‘It is what it does not.’
He warmed to his subject, leaning forward and leaving his second pot of ale untouched. ‘Perhaps I should be be satisfied that the matter of the archdeacon's death is as nearly solved as it will ever be. I am not. Maybe the man did suffer the misfortune to encounter desperate men. Maybe they were ready to kill to secure their freedom, as the constable later did. Even so, why did they not stay to rob their victim?’
‘There may be any number of explanations,’ Lassimer replied. ’They could have been disturbed. They could have set a greater value on a rapid escape than the goods the victim had about him. They might even have intended only to stun him or render him incapable of raising the alarm before they could get away. It is possible that his killers were horrified to find the man dead, and panicked.’
‘All plausible enough,’ Adam said.
‘So why does your curiosity remained unappeased?’ Lassimer asked.
‘Because it scarcely matters if there are rational explanations for what took place in the churchyard. None have been advanced for why the Venerable Nathaniel Ross was there at all. Senior clerics do not, so far as I know, make a habit of wandering around remote churchyards after dark. There was no cause for the man to be in Gressington on that day at all. Until I know the answer to that mystery, no explanation of the results will quiet my feeling that Dr. Ross's death remains unexplained.’
Lassimer laughed. ‘Bascom, my dear friend,’ he said. ‘It is your curse and your blessing to see hidden problems where others see none. In medical matters, this habit makes you the most thorough and conscientious of diagnosticians. In the rest of life, it condemns you to worry and fret over every loose end and unexplained trifle. Providence, in its infinite folly, failed to lay down that all things must be capable of explanation enough to satisfy Dr. Bascom. Sit back, forget Gressington, and drink up your ale. I assure you that Anne will not be pleased to find we have left any. She may have the face and figure of an angel, but she can put on the dark visage of Satan himself, if she feels her work is held at nought.’
12
Sailors' Stories
Tuesday, 12 June 1792, Aylsham, Norfolk
In the days that followed, Adam made good his plan to use some of the fees from his new-found patients to buy himself a better saddle. After his recent escapades, William had come to him with a long face. Not only had the master failed to treat Betty with proper respect, all this riding had left her with sores where his old saddle rubbed. Adam hid his smile and agreed to make amends. Betty was not the only one to suffer from soreness after a long ride. When he could, Adam would buy a curricle to ride about in, as befitted a prosperous doctor. For the present, a new saddle must suffice. His reward for this purchase was a happy groom and that air of contentment about his house which befits a sound relationship twixt master and servants.
Nor did Adam neglect other business matters. He made visits to several patients, old and new, bei
ng careful to be home by nightfall. He reckoned up his accounts and rendered the resultant bills, though he expected few to be settled with promptness. Indeed, the richer and more distinguished the patient, the more he or she seemed to believe that prompt payment signified a common nature. Still, he had no doubt all would pay in time, once the delay was judged suitable to their status in society. He dealt with correspondence and creditors. He even found the time to write fresh advertisements. These he would place in local newspapers to solicit more business. Thus a week and more passed, until, one dismal afternoon in a month already marked more by rain and cold winds than spring blossom, Capt. Mimms called at his surgery.
Adam had no patients to see that day after dining, so had taken the rare opportunity to sit and read in his parlour. He struggled to stay abreast of developments in his profession. As a busy young doctor, he found it impossible to attend lectures given in Norwich by eminent physicians and scientists. Instead, he patronised the booksellers or the Norfolk and Norwich Subscription Library. He also drew information from letters sent by many of his colleagues in England and the Low Countries.
One such letter had arrived that morning. It contained an account of how infusions containing the common foxglove helped in cases of congestion of the heart. Adam was deep in its contents when Molly, the kitchenmaid, knocked at the parlour door. Adam had not heard the caller nor noticed Molly going to answer. With Mrs. Brigstone and Hannah occupied elsewhere, Molly was forced to undertake the duty, though it was much against her will. Since arriving in the household, she had rarely ventured to leave the safety of the kitchen.
Since he was preoccupied, Adam spoke somewhat more roughly than he had intended. He sought always to be as kind and polite to servants as any master, but Molly was new and her timid ways grated on him. Now the silly ninny stood shaking before him, seemingly unable to deliver her message. ‘Speak up,’ he said, more kindly now. ‘What is it you must tell me?’
‘A visitor, sir,’ she said, her voice a high-pitched whisper. Adam put down his letter and gave his whole attention to coaxing the matter from her.
‘Very good, Molly. A visitor. Does this person have a name? Has he or she vouchsafed the nature of their business with me? Take your time and tell me what message you bring.’
The girl swallowed hard, then gave her message in a single breath. ‘Capt. Mimms sends you his compliments and apologises for coming without warning and has been to Yarmouth and is now going home and desires to speak with you if you are not engaged or seeing a patient…sir’.
She gasped in air and seemed ready to faint away.
‘Capt. Mimms? Capt. Mimms?’ Adam cried, leaping up from his chair so violently that the girl shrank back against the wall, putting out her hand to ward off whatever attack on her person he might intend. ‘Capt. Mimms, you say? Why did you not tell me instantly, instead of quivering like the veriest mouse? I am not an ogre who eats kitchenmaids, Molly, though I am sorely tempted when I find one as faint of heart as you. Stand up, gather yourself and show Capt. Mimms in here as befits a sensible girl. Then be off to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Brigstone to give you a jug of punch and glasses and bring them back here quickly.’
As the poor child hurried off, not at all certain that he did not have it in mind to make an end of her, Adam put his letter to one side. As he stood to welcome his guest, he still mumbled curses on girls fresh from the farm, especially those who had neither wit nor stomach enough to serve a civilised household. She would be better off feeding the hens, or milking the cows or, best of all, tending to sheep as silly as her.
At that moment, the door opened and Capt. Mimms came in, all smiles and apologies for disturbing the peace of the afternoon. Behind him, Molly’s white face showed only briefly, before she fled to the kitchen.
‘A thousand apologies, dear sir,’ Capt. Mimms began. ‘It is, I know, most deuced rude of me to call unannounced in this way. I am on my way home from some days spent about my business in Norwich and Yarmouth. My sons are good lads and tend to matters as I taught them. Yet I venture to believe an occasional visit from their father is still of use to them.’
‘I do not doubt it, sir,’ Adam said. ‘Besides, you need find no excuse to come to my home. I am most delighted to see you. Be sure that you will always have a hearty welcome here, should you call in the middle of the night. Where is that wretched girl? I sent her for punch, for I am sure you must be in need of refreshment after your journey.’
‘The wretched girl, master, is blubbering in the kitchen in a fine state from your treatment.’ It was Mrs. Brigstone who now came, carrying the tray herself. She set it down, then turned to the two men. Her expression commanded silence from both.
‘As you know full well, sir, Molly is new and most unsure of herself. Where is the good of me seeking to encourage her to settle, if you bark at her and send her away in tears? Your pardon, Capt. Mimms. You are most welcome here. I am Susan Brigstone, the Housekeeper.’
‘Mrs. Brigstone,’ Capt. Mimms said, while Adam stood torn between embarrassment and shame. ‘The maid answered the door with every politeness, invited me within and took my message in the most exemplary manner. Please give her my compliments and assure her that no maid could have done better. Indeed, if this young fellow here has no need of such a one, I will take her into my own household, if she is willing to come to Holt.’
‘You are most kind, sir’ Mrs. Brigstone said. ‘I will tell her, though I intend that she should stay here to finish her training, if only as a constant reproach to thoughtless men. Please sit and refresh yourself. My master has spoken of you most warmly and I am glad to make your acquaintance. Perhaps a few lessons from a man such as you may even train him in a greater degree of politeness to his servants.’
It slowly dawned on Adam that both were having fun at his expense, though he had to own that he deserved it. ‘I will speak to Molly myself later and endeavour to convince her that I mean her no harm. To be fair, I was deep in a most interesting letter when she came in and was thinking only of what it contained. Still, I own my fault and am ready to make amends. The compliments from our good friend here should go far to smooth ruffled feathers. Later, I will also submit meekly to your scolding, Mrs. Brigstone, as indeed I should. But let us not burden Capt. Mimms with my deficiencies as a master, many though they be. Will you take supper with us, sir? Better still, will you stay here tonight and continue to Holt in the morning?’
‘I will take supper with you gladly, for I hope thus to know you better,’ Capt. Mimms replied. ‘Yet I am not so lacking in decency as to descend unannounced and expect to find a bed prepared. No, my good sir, I will stay tonight at The Black Boys Inn in the Market Place. Indeed, I have already left my chaise and horse with the stableboy there. I have also taken the precaution of securing a room.’
He turn once more to Mrs. Brigstone. ‘Thank you for bringing me refreshment, Mrs. Brigstone. You also reveal the robust good sense of Norfolk people, mixed with the kindness I have always received from them.’
Mrs. Brigstone blushed at his words. ‘I see you know how to charm, sir,’ she said. ‘When you were a mariner, I am sure you lacked for no female company in any port of the world.’
‘Ah,’ Capt. Mimms said, ‘that was long ago, when I was a strapping lad out to taste whatever pleasures the world might offer me. Then I found a true and loving wife in Antwerp, brought her to Yarmouth, and forgot my roving ways. Alas, she is dead these ten years and I miss her as sorely as I ever did. But come, doctor, let us speak of happier things, for I came here for more than the pleasure of your company. I bring you news that has much bearing on the death of the Archdeacon of Norwich.’
‘Then I will leave you to talk of that, masters.’ Mrs. Brigstone said. And, with that, she left them.
* * *
Adam was usually the most patient of listeners. Today though his excitement at having someone before him to whom he could relate the taking of the smugglers at Gressington and the arrest of Garnet was too much for him. B
efore Capt. Mimms could open his mouth to relay his news, Adam began to explain what he had heard of the events of May. His guest smiled and held up a hand to stop him. ‘Nay, sir. I know all about that news. Even now, Garnet is held in the castle at Norwich, awaiting transfer to London and trial before a judge at the Old Bailey. His passenger on that night is not with him though. None that I have spoken with are sure where he may be, but I do not doubt he too is held securely somewhere. War with France is coming again, I fear, which will be a sad blow for our trade.’
‘Will Constable Garnet hang, do you think?’ Adam asked.
‘Most assuredly,’ Capt. Mimms replied. ‘You do not kill an officer of the crown – one victim is dead, another sore wounded – and walk away from the noose. Death may indeed come as a relief to the wretch, for I fear the authorities will have pressed him hard for as much information as they can. Now, my friend, let us speak no more of what is old news, for you will not have heard what I have to tell you.
‘Since we met last, I have made it my business to visit many of my friends, acquaintances and business contacts in Yarmouth. It is no hardship, for most keep an excellent table and wine cellar. Besides, I assure myself that maintaining such acquaintance is sound business. I try to refrain from interfering in the way my sons manage our trade, but I can see no harm in helping them where I can. As you will understand, business relies on trust which is strengthened when people do business with those they know. My sons are young, but many of the most important persons amongst the merchants of the coast are now old, as I am. We find it easier to talk with those who share our memories.’
An Unlamented Death: A Mystery Set in Georgian England (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 1) Page 8