The Westminster Poisoner: Chaloner's Fourth Exploit in Restoration London (Thomas Chaloner Book 4)

by Susanna Gregory

  Payne shrugged. ‘On the off-chance that you might escape. Haddon was not quite finished with him and your belief in his innocence was staying the Earl’s hand – keeping him free to continue our work. It does not matter now, though. We have more villains to dispatch, but we shall use other means.’

  ‘What other means?’ asked Chaloner. Haddon seemed to be having trouble with his potion, because he was frowning in a way that said he was dissatisfied with it. Greene stepped forward to help.

  ‘Accidental drownings come next,’ replied Payne gleefully. ‘And after that, mishaps with speeding carriages. Eventually, evil will be eradicated.’

  ‘Drownings,’ pounced Chaloner. ‘Like Jones. He happened across your domain, so you pushed him in the river.’

  ‘Actually, he came hurtling down the alley so fast, he could not stop – he sank like a stone. Then you came along. You jumped in the water rather than fight us, then surfaced screeching for rescue.’

  ‘Jones was a thief,’ said Doling grimly. ‘His death I do not regret. He stole from the bank that now employs me – the news is all over London.’

  ‘Do you know why Jones was in the alley?’ asked Chaloner. He could see from the bemused expressions on the soldiers’ faces that they had not thought to ask. ‘Because he was chasing one of Williamson’s spies – a man who subsequently escaped.’

  ‘Our boat!’ exclaimed Payne. ‘We thought it had been swept away by the tide, but Williamson’s man must have climbed into it and rowed away.’

  ‘He will have told the Spymaster about you,’ said Chaloner, aiming to give them cause for anxiety.

  Payne laughed derisively. ‘Who do you think provides us with quarters and weapons? Williamson often calls on our services, mostly to quell minor rebellions, which we do quietly and decisively.’

  Chaloner was confused. ‘So, you are not Haddon’s men?’

  ‘That is none of your business,’ snapped Doling. ‘Enough talking.’

  Chaloner turned to him. ‘How can you condone what Haddon is doing?’ he demanded, hoping to appeal to some deeply embedded sense of military honour. ‘You are a soldier, not an assassin.’

  ‘We are warriors, fighting vice,’ declared Payne, before Doling could speak. ‘It is no different from any other war. I used to pray with Chetwynd and the others in Scobel’s house, but their duplicity sickened me. The Restoration has allowed evil men to prosper at the expense of good ones. Look at Symons and Doling. They are decent, but they were dismissed to make room for scoundrels.’

  ‘Hargrave will be next,’ said Haddon casually, as though he was issuing invitations to dinner. ‘He rents out sub-standard buildings, and profits from supplying materials for Langston’s disgusting plays. Then Brodrick is a cruel man, who uses ferrets and bears for practical jokes, while Bulteel feeds pepper-cake to dogs, and embezzles money from his Earl.’

  ‘No!’ objected Chaloner, appalled. ‘Bulteel is the most honest man in White Hall – more honest than you, because he does not pretend to be virtuous while he breaks the law.’

  Haddon abandoned his chemistry, and strode forward to strike the spy. ‘How dare you judge me!’

  ‘So much for no suspicious marks,’ muttered Payne, a little resentfully.

  ‘And you can hold your tongue, too,’ snapped Haddon, rounding on him. ‘You have no business gossiping when I told you we need to hurry. Do you want to be caught?’

  ‘We will not be caught,’ said Payne confidently. ‘Not when we have you to guide us. The best thing I ever did was swear that oath to you. You have led us down this glorious path—’

  ‘We all swore it,’ interrupted one of the soldiers, although he did not look entirely happy. ‘We pledged to live righteous lives, and signed a pact in our own blood. But—’

  ‘You swore to him?’ Chaloner’s thoughts whirled as he stared at Haddon. ‘Thurloe said Scobel was fat and bearded, but sickness can waste a man, while beards can be shaved. You did not die … Margaret Symons saw you! She said her uncle stood by her bed, but we thought she was delirious.’

  ‘She and my nephew nursed me back to health three years ago,’ replied Haddon. He did not seem disconcerted that Chaloner had guessed his real identity – and why should he? The spy was in no position to tell anyone. ‘And then I watched my so-called friends slide from the promises they had made. It has taken me all this time to decide to put an end to their sinfulness, but I wanted to give them every chance to reform.’

  ‘It was futile thinking they would,’ put in Payne. ‘As I have told you before.’

  ‘Symons should have inherited a fortune from you,’ said Chaloner, speaking more quickly when he saw Haddon – he could not think of him as Scobel – inspect the contents of the cup, and give a satisfied nod. ‘But he did not, because you were alive and still needed it.’

  ‘It has all gone now. I enjoy working for the Earl, though. He is impatient, condescending and opinionated, but good at heart. And he likes dogs.’

  ‘So did Scobel,’ Chaloner recalled. ‘One howled over his grave, apparently.’

  ‘The coffin was stuffed with my clothes, and the poor beast was deceived. Payne killed the man who shot her.’ Haddon gave the cup one last stir, then picked it up.

  ‘I am not comfortable with this,’ said Doling uneasily. ‘Killing wicked men is one thing, but—’

  ‘We cannot let him jeopardise our work,’ said Haddon. ‘And I have a plan that will ensure no questions are asked. Greene will kill him, then swallow the rest of the poison in a fit of remorse. The case will be closed, and I shall advise the Earl that nothing will be gained by further investigation.’

  ‘What?’ asked Greene in horror, as two soldiers stepped forward to hold him.

  ‘I told you they could not be trusted,’ said Chaloner.

  Greene struggled instinctively when he was grabbed, but it was not long before the gloomy, resigned expression was back in his eyes. He went limp in his captors’ arms. Chaloner tried to capitalise on the diversion by breaking free, but Payne subdued him with several vicious punches that made his head spin, ignoring Haddon’s protestations about suspicious marks. The spy had been in many difficult situations during his eventful life, but this was by far one of the most serious – he could not see any way to help himself, no matter how hard he tried to force his sluggish mind to work.

  ‘Drink the wine,’ ordered Payne, taking the cup from Haddon and holding it out to Greene.

  ‘Refuse,’ countered Chaloner. His voice sounded thick and slurred to his own ears. ‘Do not make it easy for them – they promised you passage to the New World, but they repay you with death.’

  ‘Perhaps it is for the best,’ said Greene flatly. ‘I never was easy with the notion of killing, even for God. And working for Lady Castlemaine made me feel … tainted.’

  ‘You are tainted,’ said Haddon softly. ‘But if you take your own life, God will forgive you. Drink. It will soon be over.’

  Greene indicated the soldiers were to release one of his hands, then he took the cup and held it to his lips. He hesitated for a moment, then tipped it back and swallowed. Chaloner watched in disbelief – he had expected the man to put up at least a modicum of self-defence. After a moment, the clerk doubled over and started to retch. Chaloner began to struggle again when Payne walked towards him, and succeeded in knocking the cup with his chin, so some of its contents slopped to the floor.

  ‘Hold him still,’ Payne snarled.

  Chaloner summoned the last of his strength and fought, writhing and twisting with all his might, knowing resistance was his only chance of life. More poison spilled, and in frustration, Payne pushed his dagger against the spy’s throat. There was a sharp pain, but Chaloner knew it was a victory, because it was yet another mark Wiseman would question. More men came to pin him down. He managed to bite one and butt another in the face with his forehead. Curses filled the air.

  ‘It will taste of brandywine,’ snapped Haddon, becoming angry when he saw the length of time it was taking. �
�Do not make such a fuss.’

  ‘I do not like this,’ said Doling, backing away from the fracas suddenly. ‘I swore to fight evil, not to dispatch honest men for doing their duty.’

  ‘We have no choice,’ said Haddon impatiently. ‘Do you want to hang for murder? No? Then help Payne restrain him. The longer you let him keep us here, the greater are our chances of discovery.’

  Liquid splashed on Chaloner’s cheek as the cup was lowered towards him, and he imagined he could feel it corroding his skin. He resisted with every fibre of his being, but his strength was spent, and Payne now gripped him so hard that he could barely breathe. His vision began to darken.

  ‘No,’ ordered Doling. ‘That is enough. Let him go.’

  Chaloner was astonished when the soldiers promptly stepped away. Unfortunately, Payne did not follow their example: he responded by tightening his hold further still, and the spy found he was too weak to break loose. Worse, he could not breathe at all, and it occurred to him that suffocation was just as effective a way to kill as poison. Payne was about to do his master’s bidding without the toxin coming anywhere near him.

  Suddenly, there was a tremendous crash, and the door flew open. The Earl stood there, Bulteel at his heels. The secretary looked terrified, and the Earl was panting hard.

  ‘Stop!’ the Earl bellowed. ‘I command you to stop!’

  For a moment, no one moved. The train-band gaped at him, while even Haddon seemed taken aback. He recovered quickly, though.

  ‘Bulteel,’ he said, ignoring the Earl. ‘Your timing is impeccable. I said I would make you pay for what you did to my dogs, and I happen to have some spare poison. Fetch him, Payne. Doling can finish Thomas – we have wasted enough time on him.’

  ‘What about the Earl?’ asked Payne, releasing Chaloner and hurrying to do as he was told. The spy collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath. ‘Can we dispatch him, too? He is from White Hall, so he will be corrupt.’

  ‘He is—’ Whatever Haddon was about to say died in his throat, and an expression of astonishment filled his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. Then he pitched forward. Payne rushed to catch him, gazing in horror at the knife that protruded from his master’s back.

  Chaloner managed to raise his head, and saw triumph gleam in Greene’s eyes. He could not imagine how the dying clerk had mustered the strength to lob his knife, but he had done it, and Haddon was choking as blood filled his lungs.

  ‘You—’ Payne’s face was as black as thunder, and he dropped Haddon to take a menacing step towards the clerk. Doling interposed himself between them.

  ‘Enough,’ said Doling quietly. ‘It is over.’

  ‘Are you insane?’ snarled Payne, trying to thrust past him. ‘We must finish this – if we let these men live, we will be signing our own death warrants.’

  ‘So be it,’ said Doling, pushing him away. His men stood behind him, silent and obedient.

  Eyes flashing with rage, Payne turned on Doling, but his hot-tempered lunges were no match for the older man’s cool, practised ripostes. His eyes bulged as Doling’s sword bit into his chest. Then he crashed to the floor, and lay still. There was a brief silence, then Chaloner heard the tap of the Earl’s tight little shoes as he moved forward tentatively.

  ‘London is no place for us,’ said Doling softly. ‘We thought we could stop the seeping wickedness that pervades the city, but we became as soiled as the men we sought to eradicate.’

  ‘I should say,’ agreed the Earl, looking around in distaste. ‘And associating with Spymaster Williamson is unlikely to lead you along the path of righteousness, either.’

  ‘Payne was the killer,’ said one of the soldiers. ‘He stabbed two men and a woman just for asking about us. Doling tried to stop him, but Scobel had Payne under his thumb, and it turned him mad.’

  ‘I would like to take my men away from the city,’ said Doling, in the same low, level voice. ‘Lead them somewhere safe. Will you try to stop me, sir?’

  ‘No,’ said the Earl hastily, reading a threat in the quietly spoken words. ‘However, I suspect Williamson will ensure you never reach a court if you are captured, because he will not want his role in this affair made public. So I advise you to leave the country with all possible speed.’

  Doling gave him a curt nod, and strode out, his warriors streaming at his heels.

  Chaloner forced himself to sit up, aware that by bursting in with only Bulteel at his side, the Earl had just committed an act of remarkable courage. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked weakly.

  The Earl raised his eyebrows. ‘That is not my idea of a heartfelt expression of gratitude, Thomas. What is wrong with you? I have just risked my life to save yours, and I am not a naturally brave man – at least, not where dangerous villains are concerned.’

  ‘How did you know …’ Chaloner was too tired to think of the question he wanted to ask.

  ‘You have Bulteel to thank for that. He happened to be near Haddon’s house in Cannon Row, when he spotted him conferring with Payne – a man who is wanted for murder in Westminster. He came to tell me, and we set off together. The palace guards should be here at any moment.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Chaloner managed to say.

  The Earl shrugged carelessly, although he looked pleased with himself. ‘You are welcome. After all, I do not want to lose both my spies in the same day.’

  Epilogue

  Two days later

  Although the Earl was eager for explanations, he appreciated his spy was in no condition to provide him with any, and took him to Fetter Lane in his own carriage. Chaloner was not sure at what point Hannah arrived, but he was aware of her stoking up the fire and soothing him as he lay in a fever of dreams. When he finally woke, stiff but refreshed, the sun was shining and the snow had melted so completely that he wondered whether he had imagined the entire episode.

  ‘Your Earl wants you to visit as soon as possible,’ Hannah said, as they ate the pickled ling pie she had made to celebrate his recovery. It was not very pleasant, but she was quite open about the fact that it was the only dish she knew how to prepare, so he supposed he would have to do all the cooking if he wanted a future with her. ‘He is eager to know where you have hidden the missing statue.’

  Chaloner set down his spoon, appetite gone as he thought about all that had happened. ‘I was wrong about Greene, and my arrogance allowed Haddon – Scobel – to claim more victims.’

  ‘The Earl said you would think that, but he heard some of what was said in the Painted Chamber, and is convinced that Haddon and Payne would have devised other ways to kill, if Greene had been unavailable. And you were not wrong, anyway.’

  ‘How was I not wrong? Greene poisoned Chetwynd, Vine and Langston.’

  ‘Because he was forced to. Haddon planned everything, down to the last detail, and Greene was just his instrument.’

  The difference was academic, as far as Chaloner was concerned, and he knew it would be a long time – if ever – before he forgave himself.

  ‘Greene confessed to the Earl before he died,’ said Hannah, when he made no reply. ‘He said Vine, Chetwynd and Langston would not have accepted wine from “Reeve”, as they called Haddon, because they did not trust him. They all knew he wore a disguise, which meant they were always wary of him. But no one thought Greene was a killer, which allowed him to do as Haddon ordered. I wonder why Haddon picked on him – and why Greene let him do it.’

  ‘Because of the oath he swore,’ explained Chaloner. ‘He promised to be virtuous – and he tried, by helping the Southwark prostitutes – but he compromised his principles by working for the Lady and accepting obscene books. I imagine Haddon had him marked for death, anyway, and using him to kill the others was just a convenient way of dispatching yet another man he felt had let him down.’

  ‘L’Ecole des Filles is not that obscene,’ said Hannah. ‘Not like Langston’s plays.’

  ‘You have seen them?’ asked Chaloner, startled.

  ‘Buc
kingham took me to watch one or two.’

  ‘I made a lot of discoveries that had nothing to do with the murders,’ said Chaloner, not wanting to know more. ‘George Vine’s hatred for his father, his mother’s reluctance to tell me whether her husband had owned a ruby ring—’

  ‘George said yesterday that she thought he was the killer, and was reluctant to say to anything that might implicate him. What a family!’

  ‘Then there was Jones and his gold, and the fact that no one was investigating his death.’

  ‘It was assumed he just drowned,’ explained Hannah, ‘as people do with distressing frequency. No one thought there was any need to ask questions, not even when it became known he was a bank robber.’

  ‘For a while, I even suspected Gold of being the killer,’ said Chaloner tiredly. ‘But he was innocent.’

  ‘He is guilty of marrying a very silly girl, though. I heard at Court today that Neale has asked Bess to wed him, and she has accepted. People are calling him Golden Neale for his good fortune. But I doubt they will make each other happy.’

  ‘I misread what happened to Scobel and Margaret, too,’ Chaloner went on. ‘I thought they had been poisoned, but they were not.’

  ‘Wiseman came to report that he found nothing amiss in the samples he took from the Symonses’ house. Margaret died of natural causes. He also said that Scobel might well have recovered from his sharpness of the blood, but that it would have resulted in a dramatic loss of weight – which explains why Scobel was fat, but “Haddon” was thin.’

  ‘I should see the Earl before he accuses me of malingering,’ said Chaloner, standing reluctantly. ‘He saved my life, so I should give him the opportunity to gloat.’

  Hannah grimaced. ‘I did not realise working for him was so dangerous. Perhaps I should not ask questions about your investigations in the future – what I do not know cannot worry me.’