“Never tell me you were there, my lady,” the clerk said, horrified.
“We just came from there. And my errand is urgent.”
“Yes, yes. I will send Jake over right away. Just you wait here.”
“Your parents would die, my lady, did they know you was here,” said Sally, finally driven to protest.
“But they won’t know, Sally,” Joanna said patiently. “Not unless you tell them.”
“Of course I won’t, my lady, not even if you were to take away my afternoon off. I am just trying to say that this is not a place for a lady to be,” Sally replied, indignant that her mistress would doubt her loyalty.
They waited a few minutes and then there was a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Joanna.
A slight, average-height, rather nondescript man entered the room.
“Lady Joanna Barrand?”
“You must be Jake. I take it you could not find Mr. Naylor? Perhaps I could leave a note asking him to call on me?”
The man grinned. “I am Gideon Naylor, my lady.”
“You can’t be,” Joanna protested without thinking.
“But I am. I understand you wish to hire me for an investigation?”
“Yes, but it is a murder investigation. Perhaps I should wait until Mr. McManus is back from the country.” Joanna realized what she had said. “I apologize if I sound insulting, Mr. Naylor, but I need someone…”
“Large and threatening?” he asked humorously.
“I had expected a Runner to be more distinctive,” she admitted. “Of course, the clerk did recommend you also.”
“Yes, well, it has been said of me as well as McManus that I can be ‘mild with the mild and terrible with the terrible,’ Lady Joanna. But if you wish to wait a few days…”
“Oh, dear, I have been very rude, I know, but I do not have the time to wait, so I suppose you will do.” Joanna laughed. “That was not much better, was it, Mr. Naylor. I am sorry, but I am quite distraught over the situation of a dear friend. Please sit down.”
Naylor sat. There was a sharp knock on the door, and the Runner said: “I have taken the liberty to ask Jake to bring us some tea. I hope that is all right?”
“Why, yes, thank you.” Joanna was grateful for his thoughtfulness, and realized that a stimulant was just what she needed.
The door opened and a hulking brute of a man set down a tray. He looked as if he could lift Naylor up with one hand as easily as he carried the tray, but his manner was very respectful.
After he left, Naylor looked over at Joanna and lifted his eyebrows inquiringly.
She laughed. “Yes. All right. That is what I thought a Runner would look like.”
“Jake is a very useful man to have around a courtroom,” said Naylor, as he poured the tea. “And is often helpful in subduing the occasional suspect. But he has no talent for investigation, my lady. And I assume that is what you want.”
Joanna took a sip of her tea. It was surprisingly good and the warmth and strength of it relaxed her. It had been a horrible afternoon. She had never seen Newgate before, much less visited. Nor had she ever imagined she would be sitting in a questioning room drinking tea with a Bow Street Runner. Good tea at that, she thought to herself with a smile.
There was a quiet air of competence about Mr. Naylor, she had to admit. As the tea relaxed some of her tension, sitting with him was beginning to do the same. He seemed willing to sit there, sipping tea, waiting all afternoon, if need be, to hear her story.
“I need someone to investigate a murder of which an old friend has been unjustly accused,” she finally stated.
“And what murder would that be, my lady?” Naylor was sure he knew, for he didn’t think Lady Joanna Barrand was here on behalf of some lower-class criminal accused of murdering a prostitute, for instance. The only recent murder he knew she might be concerned with was the one for which he’d arrested Lord Ashford.
“The victim was Lady Fairhaven, Mr. Naylor.”
“And Lord Ashford is a friend of yours?”
“Then you know of the case,” Joanna said eagerly.
“You might say so. I was the one who arrested Lord Ashford.”
Joanna was taken aback. “How can I hire you then if you are convinced of Tony’s guilt.”
“I was the Runner assigned, Lady Joanna. My responsibilities were to investigate and make an arrest on the basis of available evidence. There was enough to incriminate Lord Ashford. That does not mean I am entirely convinced of his guilt. Only that I had to do my duty.”
“Then you don’t believe he did it?”
“I didn’t say that. But I do agree that the case warrants some investigation. Even if—especially if—he is acquitted at the hearing.”
“Is there any chance he might be?” Joanna asked.
“It is possible. It was certainly reasonable to arrest him. But to bind a peer over for trial? That might take something like an eyewitness, which we don’t have in this case.”
“What exactly do you have?”
“As far as we know, Lord Ashford was the last person to see Lady Fairhaven alive. We also know that she had refused him money which he desperately needed. And given his experience as a soldier, he had the expertise to kill her the way someone did.”
“I thought she was strangled. Surely anyone could have done that.”
Naylor leaned over and placed his hands on Joanna’s neck. His thumbs rested on both sides of her throat and she could feel her pulse quicken as he pressed gently. “There are arteries on each side of the neck, my lady. A little pressure from me, and you would lose consciousness. A little more, and you would never regain it. And a soldier is more likely to know this.”
Naylor was very gentle in his little demonstration, but Joanna could feel the strength behind his hands. All of a sudden, she realized that it was true: this small, mild man was quite capable of being terrible with the terrible.
She swallowed nervously and he dropped his hands.
“You yourself seem quite expert, Mr. Naylor,” she said, her outward calm not betraying how shaken she was. What must it have been like for Claudia in those last few seconds of life?
“I was with the Forty-seventh Foot, my lady. So, yes, I have had some experience. As has Lord Ashford.”
“It does sound damning, hearing you recite the evidence. But I know Tony Varden. I know he cared about Lady Fairhaven. I know he could never have killed her, no matter how desperate he was.”
“Gamblers can be driven to crime just like drunkards, Lady Joanna. I have seen it before. In a moment of panic, who knows what Lord Ashford might have done?”
“But if he didn’t do it, then the real murderer is getting away! Tony says he and Claudia came to an understanding. That she gave him the money freely. That…” Joanna hesitated, because it was so painful. “That when he left, they were betrothed.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t believe him?”
“He was quite convincing, Lady Joanna. But you see, there are no witnesses to the reconciliation, only to the quarrel. Of course,” Naylor went on, almost to himself, “that in itself is interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because the footman would have been able to tell us if Lord Ashford left looking like a newly betrothed man. If Lady Fairhaven appeared happy or angry or disappointed. But he has disappeared.”
“What do you mean,” demanded Joanna.
“Lady Fairhaven had hired a new under-footman only a few weeks ago. The butler instructed him to remain at the door, and see Lady Fairhaven up to her room. But when I got there, I found that this Jim had vanished, taking nothing with him. Apparently he had not even gone up to his room that night.”
“Then maybe he did it,” said Joanna, hope rising in her voice.
“But why?”
“For the money, of course.”
“Perhaps. Although we don’t know how much money Lady Fairhaven had in the drawer. And Jim may be lying dead in a gut
ter somewhere for all we know. At any rate, the motive for him is less clear.”
“Isn’t there anyone else?”
“An intruder. There has been a rash of burglaries in the last few months. But the men I know who work that neighborhood are not usually violent.” Naylor hesitated. “There is the new Lord Fairhaven…”
Joanna shuddered.
“You don’t like the earl, I take it?” commented Naylor with a smile.
“No, there is something very cold about him. I could well imagine him as the murderer,” said Joanna.
“Unfortunately, Lady Joanna, your dislike of Lord Fairhaven’s temperament is not evidence. However, a little investigation into the background of the late Lord Fairhaven’s will might be in order. And a search for this missing footman. If you still wish to hire me, I will take on the case.”
Joanna’s face lit up. “Thank you, Mr. Naylor. I cannot tell you how much this means to me. Even if Tony is released, he will be tainted by suspicion and hounded by the gossips unless the true murderer is found. He is an old and dear friend,” she said softly. “He suffered enough from his father and brother’s deaths. You will begin immediately, I hope,” she added, standing up and summoning Sally.
“Yes. Lord Ashford is fortunate to have such a devoted friend, Lady Joanna,” said Naylor, as he showed the women out. And if I were a gambler myself, he thought, as he handed Joanna into a cab, I would bet that Lord Ashford has much more than your friendship, my lady.
* * * *
Luckily, when Joanna returned home, her father was at his club and her mother was taking an afternoon nap. At some point she would probably have to tell them about her visits, but today she was not up to it. As soon as she reached her room, Sally helped her out of her gown.
“Burn it, Sally,” said Joanna, as she stepped out of it. “I may be imagining things, but to me, it smells like Newgate.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“And Sally,” Joanna added.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Thank you for accompanying me. I know it was distressing for you, but I couldn’t have done it alone. I appreciate your loyalty.”
Sally flushed with pleasure. “I am just glad that we are both home safe and sound,” she replied.
Joanna dismissed her, and pulling on her silk wrapper, sat down in the chair by her window. Her room overlooked the small garden in back of the house, and she liked to read by the window, or just sit, taking in the peace and beauty of the knot garden and the roses. Today, however, she was blind to the colors, and the only smell she was conscious of, despite the open window, was the remembered stench of the prison.
The energy that had carried her through the afternoon was gone. She was exhausted. And heartsick. For years she had been hoping that Tony might one day see her as the woman she had become. The woman who had been in love with him since childhood. She smiled as she saw herself so many years ago kicking his shins and pounding him with her fists. That was the only time she had showed him a passionate response. When she had been dreaming of Tony as her devoted Lancelot, imaging what it would be like to be lifted up in front of him and ride away. She never did get beyond being held tenderly as he guided his horse homeward. And then, there he was, apologizing and laughing at the same time, no “parfit, gentil knight” at all, and that was when she knew she loved him. Oh, she would have been better off going after Ned, who at least was genuinely apologetic. But Ned was too stable, too good. Tony was volatile and funny and attractive.
It had always been hopeless, and Joanna had thought she had resigned herself to her small place in Tony’s heart. Even watching his pursuit of Lady Fairhaven, she had almost convinced herself that it was only for the money. But today her defenses were down. He had cared about Claudia. Maybe not loved her, but cared about her, he said, as he cared about Joanna. But it was Claudia to whom he had become betrothed. Only for a few short hours, but had it not been for an intruder, Tony would have married her. Because she had enough money to save Ashford, and Joanna did not.
It seemed to Joanna that figuratively she was still tied to that damned tree, waiting and waiting for Tony to remember her. To realize that he had left someone of importance to him behind. But he was still a careless and stupid, stupid man, thought Joanna, wishing she had him in front of her right now. She wanted to rail at him, kick his shins again, and this time tell him: “Here I am, and I love you, you fool!”
But now he was a prisoner. Now he was waiting too.
Love was too hard, she thought, as her anger subsided and as the tears began. They ran down her face slowly and then more rapidly, and she watched from someplace far away as they fell on the green silk, puckering the material.
It was too hard to keep it all hidden. To maintain her cool facade. To pretend that all she felt for him was what he felt for her.
She could walk away, of course. Hope that Naylor’s investigation paid off, but when Tony was released, cut him the way most of society would. No, she could never do that. But she could go away. She had been promising a visit to her godmother in Cumbria for a long time. She would see to Tony’s release and then, once the Season was over, get away from him for the summer. And come home free of her ridiculous, childish obsession at last.
Chapter 18
Mark Halesworth was furious. He had visited Reresby, Justin’s solicitor, the day after Claudia’s death to inquire about her will. He was hoping that she had not gotten around to making one, which would make his inheritance automatic. But Reresby would never have let her get away with such carelessness, of course. He was too efficient, damn him. “Lady Fairhaven made out a will immediately after the late earl’s death, my lord,” the solicitor had informed him.
“I see.” Mark breathed a sigh of relief. It would take longer to see the money, but Claudia could have left her money to no one but him.
“Of course, she made a few changes a few weeks before she died,” added Reresby. The old man heartily disliked the present Lord Fairhaven, and took great satisfaction in giving him the bad news.
“A few changes? What kind of changes?”
“Oh, I am afraid I am not at liberty to say, sir. There won’t be an official reading of the will until the mystery of her death is resolved.”
“Mystery? What mystery? She was murdered, you fool. They have arrested Tony Varden for the crime.”
“Only on suspicion, my lord. He has not yet been bound over for trial.”
“I am sure he will be.”
“That may be so, but in a case such as this, the will must wait.”
“Then you will not show it to me?”
“No, my lord.”
Mark turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. Old Reresby smiled a dry little smile as he pulled open his drawer and fingered the vellum document within. Lord Fairhaven might be angry now, but he would be far angrier when he heard the changes Lady Fairhaven had made. It was anyone’s guess, of course, what Tony Varden would feel. Even if he was released, the will could be reason enough to put him right back in jail.
* * * *
“I wish to see Mr. Gideon Naylor.”
The magistrate’s clerk looked up in surprise. Within two days, Naylor had had two visitors. That’s what happened when one of the nobility was killed, he thought.
“Mr. Naylor is out on a case, Mr…?”
“Mark Halesworth, Lord Fairhaven. If I leave him a note, will you see that he gets it?”
“Of course, my lord.”
The clerk handed Mark a piece of paper and a pen with a worn-down nib which spattered while Mark wrote.
“There,” he said, frowning at his ink-stained fingers. “See that he gets this as soon as possible.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The clerk waited until Fairhaven had been gone a full five minutes before unfolding the note.
Naylor,
I suggest you visit Reresby, my cousin’s solicitors. Lady Fairhaven made some changes in her will which might have given Lord Ashford even more of a r
eason to kill her.
Fairhaven
Hmmm, thought the clerk, Gideon is being pushed from both sides. I wonder how he will fall.
* * * *
A day later, Gideon himself was wondering too. He had returned to Lady Fairhaven’s house and obtained all the information he could about Jim, which was, unfortunately, minimal. The previous under-footman had left suddenly and recommended James Tolin. “He was a bright lad, and very eager to please,” said Dawson. “And he quickly developed the same loyalty to the mistress as we all had,” the butler added, with a cough to distract from the slight tremor of emotion in his voice.
“Did he come from London, do you know? Did he ever mention family?”
“I know he visited family on his day off,” replied Dawson. “But he never told us where in the city they lived. He did say something once about his father also having been in service.”
“Thank you, Dawson, that gives me a little something to go on. Now, would he have had any money to get him by?”
“Whatever was left of his wages.”
“Which we found hidden away in his room,” Naylor reminded the butler.
Dawson frowned. “What if Jim saw Lord Ashford killing the mistress and Lord Ashford bribed him to disappear and stay quiet? Have you thought of that possibility, Mr. Naylor?” he asked.
“So maybe he wasn’t as loyal as you thought?”
“Well, he was new, and almost anyone can be bought.”
“It is a possibility to be considered, Mr. Dawson,” said Naylor, with a grateful smile. He always enjoyed watching people begin to enter into an investigation, each sure that he or she had thought of the solution. “In the meantime,” he said, “if you hear anything or think of anything else, be sure to be in touch with me.”
“Of course, Mr. Naylor.”
Naylor paused on the stoop. He would start inquiring after older footmen named Tolin. If he were lucky, Jim’s father would have been employed in Mayfair and not by some rich Cit. This part of the job, the tramping about and collecting information, was the most necessary and also the most tedious. But at least it kept him fit and trim, he thought.
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