‘I’m sorry, Foxe. I should not have spoken thus. It is good of you to tell me about these things. Of course, if you could but mention the source of these fresh volumes, I might well be able to …’
Foxe laughed. ‘You will not catch me that way, Alderman. You know I make it an inflexible rule never to reveal the source of what I buy.’
Alderman Halloran smiled and looked rueful. ‘Suppose I should have known. Well, you know I am not interested in old manuscripts, even with fine illuminations. Books on alchemy? No, not for me. I dare say you will find others eager enough for both those categories. I am a Freemason, as you no doubt know, but I do not collect books on the Craft. I can ask in my Lodge and elsewhere to see if others are, if you wish. Natural philosophy. You said there were some on that subject? That is much more to my taste, especially if they bear on the system of understanding pioneered by Sir Isaac Newton.’
‘I did.’
‘I recall you once asked me why I spent so much on books, both in time and money. It seemed to me then that you expected a merchant and man of business to have quite different interests. That I should be always in my counting-house or warehouse.’
‘I was somewhat curious, Alderman. I know you to be a most successful yarn merchant. That did not seem to be consistent with collecting books as you do. Of course, I have some customers who value books for their bindings, the beauty of the pages or their antiquity. They collect books as others collect paintings or statues. Yet, if I am not mistaken, it is the content of a book which interests you.’
‘You are not mistaken, Foxe. Our times are marked by constant and rapid change, and not just in knowledge of the natural world and its principles. Men who can make use of such knowledge in practical ways often become rich and successful. They invent new means of manufacture, transport and use of all the other raw materials of this country’s wealth. I am ever interested in how I might improve my own business thus. If I do not do it and others do, they will gain an advantage I might well be unable to match. In time, Foxe, much of the labour of men will be replaced by machines able to work faster and without ceasing for rest. We are already seeing such machinery in use in the worsted trade elsewhere. If Norwich lags behind, it will lose its pre-eminence.’
‘I will make a list of such books and bring it to you when I can, Alderman. I seem to recall there were more than a few. The owner is not selling his whole library, as I think I mentioned. He has a pressing need for some extra funds at present. I have promised to find the money for him with the loss of as few volumes as possible.’
‘Gambling debts, I’ll warrant. Or some demanding mistress. Hold on! I believe I heard that Lord and Lady Tomitt have the most grandiose plans for rebuilding Tomitt Towers in the Gothick fashion. They must need a good deal of money for that. Tomitt’s father was Grand Master of the Thetford Lodge as well.’
‘Those who fish often do so in vain, Alderman, as I am sure you know.’
‘Oh, very well, Foxe. Bring me what you think I might like and I will probably be persuaded, as so often with you. But find something more exciting, and you will find me more eager.’
‘There is one thing, Alderman. A puzzle.’
‘You and your puzzles, Foxe! Whatever now.’
‘Have you ever come across a bay of shelving made to conceal something behind it? Made unusually shallow, for example.’
The alderman looked at Foxe in an odd way. Then, having made up his mind, he walked towards the far corner of his library, beckoning Foxe to follow.
‘Many of us indulge in … how may I put it? … Books on subjects we would not wish to be on show for a casual visitor to stumble across. And before you get the wrong notion, let me make it clear I do not speak of erotica. I imagine every gentleman has a few volumes of that sort – even you, I dare say. No, what I am speaking of are the kind of books whose possession might arouse unwanted speculation. A sober clergyman might have a secret interest in the occult, for example. He would not wish his parishioners, let alone his bishop, to suspect as much.’
‘And your secret interest, Alderman? Not magick, surely!’
‘Of course not! Still, I have a position to maintain. It would hurt my business if people thought I held unusual or, especially, heretical religious views. I am trusting you here, Foxe. You are aware of that?’
‘Indeed, Alderman, and I am flattered. Have no fear. My own private views on many topics, secular and spiritual, would not bear close scrutiny by those of an orthodox disposition.’
They had come to a set of shelves set into a narrow space between a window and the end wall of the room. There was nothing odd about them, so far as Foxe could see, until … ah, there was that same odd regularity in the size and layout of these volumes. Alderman Halloran leaned forward slightly. He counted six books from the left of the third shelf from the floor, then placed two fingers on the top of the book thus selected.
‘Observe,’ he said. When he pulled his fingers forward, there was a faint click. The book itself seemed to pivot forwards and the right edge of this whole set of shelves swung an inch or so away from its normal place. Then, reaching into the space, the alderman pressed some other release. Thus he could swing the shelves outwards to reveal a duplicate set of shelving behind. The books on these hidden shelves were as irregular in size and binding as you would expect. Nor were all the shelves full. This private section still had space for a good few additions.
‘Some years ago, Foxe, I met a most learned man. He was a refugee from persecution in his native land come to our shores to find liberty of conscience. He it was who first stimulated my interest in the ideas of those whose reasoning was not limited by the claims of churches or religious authority. Like his friends, he relied only on reason to be his guide in all matters, especially in understanding the laws of the natural world. I was entranced. Yet he gave me the most solemn advice never to reveal my thoughts to any but a chosen few. He had been chased half across Europe and must live the life of a fugitive even here.’
‘It was sound advice.’
‘It was. Even in the time of the great Sir Isaac Newton, many claimed the revelations of the bible contained all knowledge needed. The churches feared for their authority. Their influence would be undermined if statements based on supposed divine revelation proved to be untrue. It is not always easy to disentangle discoveries in natural philosophy from theological dispute.’
‘The churches saw men of reason and science as heretics or atheists?’
‘Yes. Perhaps some scholars or wealthy gentlemen can afford to ignore disapproval. They do not face the threat of customers going elsewhere. I have learned to appear the most typical of merchants on the outside. I do not deny my true interests. I make sure never to be where I must reveal them. Men say I am a presbyterian in religion. That sect does not demand any set profession of faith. Thus I may attend their services, without making myself a hypocrite in my own eyes.’
‘I thank you again, Alderman. I will not betray you. And now that you have shown me this trick, I may have more to report on my next visit.’
‘Beware of over-confidence! The carpenter who made this for me said he had made several such devices. Yet he always took care that each should have a release mechanism that was unique. You must not assume the shelves in the library you are dealing with are released in exactly the same manner. There is still a puzzle for you to solve.’
#
On his way home, Foxe considered his next moves. He would return to the earl’s library as soon as he could, of course, but first he needed to make better progress in the investigation of Bonneviot’s. Too much was still unexplained. The man had been hard on many people, but that had always been his way. Why should anyone decide to kill him now? If any had hated him so much, they must have had opportunity to do him harm long ago. In the end, Foxe decided his next step should be to visit Eliza Swan. It was long odds, but she could not be ignored. He could see no reason why she might have suddenly wished her father dead, though she had probably done
so many times over the years. Still, she might at least know something of the tensions within his household. Bonneviot had treated both wife and daughter as chattels. He had been ready to strike his wife if she went against his wishes – perhaps he used his daughter in a similar way. He had even thrown his only son out of the house and his inheritance, when it was clear he would not bow to his father’s demands. No, he was even more the domestic dictator than his father had been. Was that alone enough to lead to his death?
Foxe made a detour to call again at Kitty Catt’s house. Since it was still some time before the hour of dinner, he was fortunate to find her at home. Yet there she was, wearing a neat day-gown of flowered worsted and looking for all the world like the daughter of a prosperous merchant, since that, indeed, was what she was. Her parents, now both dead, had left their two daughters very well provided. At the moment, she was looking over her lines for her next performance.
‘It’s no use expecting to be invited to dine with me, Ash,’ she began at once. ‘This evening I dine at Lady Wakeham’s home. But since I have no performance tonight, and she has the habit of dining late, that leaves me …’ She looked at the small clock on the mantle in the room. ‘… quite two hours of freedom.’
Foxe would have assured her that he had not come seeking an invitation to dinner, but she went on before he could speak.
‘I received your letter, dear Ash, and am, as they say, quite at your disposal. My sister was green with envy that you asked to take me to the ball.’ Yes, she would not have been able to resist imparting that news on the instant. ‘You had better have a similar gift for her when you see her next. Indeed, if she did not so much enjoy a certain other kind of encounter with you …’ Here she looked at the front of Foxe's breeches. ‘… I declare she would be quite unwilling to forgive you for giving me the invitation first.’
Foxe shook his head. ‘I suppose it never occurred to you to remain silent on the matter for a day or so.’
‘Not for an instant!’
‘I suppose I ought to have known. But I have come here indeed upon that matter, Kitty. Will you be free one day soon to accompany me to a certain mercer’s shop? I thought we might go as an indulgent husband buying a small – yes, small, Kitty. Heed the word – gift for his young wife.’
‘Which shop?’ Kitty was all business in a moment.
‘I am told it was once owned by a Mr. Swan and is now run by his widow.’
Kitty clapped her hands together in delight.
‘That is quite the best and most fashionable mercer’s shop in the city! How kind of you to take me there to purchase material for the new gown I will need to accompany you to the ball. It must needs be something unusual, even striking. Rich, naturally, but all the other ladies will have gowns of rich silk and the like. No, this gown must stand out.’
Damnation! He should have thought of that. He could only hope the visit would be worth what it would undoubtedly cost him.
‘It is also quite the best place to buy the present you owe my sister too.’
Worse and worse!
‘She has jewels a-plenty, but cloth for a new gown – or even two – might just soften her mood towards you somewhat.’
‘Kitty! I am not made of money. I will buy you sufficient for a ball gown. I will even buy material to dress your sister – though she must have more gowns already than she can ever wear. But I will not be milked like some placid goat. Even I have my limits as far as the Catt sisters are concerned. Drive too hard a bargain and it may be the last we make.’
Kitty looked at him steadily for a moment. ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘but you should know both of us well enough by now to understand that, while we may tease, we love you too well to inflict any real harm.’
‘Thank you, my dear. Now, I should leave you to make ready for your engagement. Shall I call for you at eleven? It will be best if you dress as the young wife of a wealthy merchant, for we want Mrs. Swan to deal with us herself.’
‘Eleven it is. But you do not escape so easily, Ash. I told you I have quite two hours free before I need to dress for dinner. More than enough time to enjoy your most … outstanding … talents.’ She had leaned forward swiftly and seized him in a way that he could not escape without the risk of great pain. Now her fingers were making her intentions still more obvious. Foxe surrendered.
When Foxe finally left her house, nearly two hours later, Kitty was still curled up contently in the nest they had made amongst the bedclothes. For once, she seemed well satisfied with his efforts. And that was good, for he was unsure he could have managed another bout right away.
Foxe had intended to visit Gracie the next afternoon. It was now obvious that he should postpone that. If Kitty sent word to her sister about the way she had spent this afternoon – as she certainly would – he doubted he would escape Gracie’s demands for equal treatment. He needed a goodly period of time to regain his strength.
6
Into the Past
The Misses Calderwood had known Foxe since his childhood, and would, as always, be delighted by a visit. He knew that, like many elderly people, they slept little and rose early. Nevertheless, he delayed his visit to them until the most polite time of day. These ladies might be old, and they had never been wealthy, but they deserved as much consideration as any others.
Thus it was that Foxe rose at the usual hour the next day and dressed as elegantly as ever. The ladies still appreciated a well-dressed gentleman with shapely calves. Then he took his normal route to The Swan, coffee and the newspaper. Today, his stay was but an hour before he set off again towards the city’s brooding, Norman castle and the streets between there and the cathedral. The way down to the river was steepest here, but that had not deterred people from building some fine houses along the way. In back lanes and alleys more modest houses survived, crammed into spaces left by the grand dwellings. They crept between the mansions and gardens of the gentry and the clergy who served the cathedral.
It was to one of these that Foxe made his way. Once it must have been a small timbered cottage of the type to be found throughout Norfolk. Now, alas, the thatched roof was dark with moss and damp. The great beams had also lost much of the pitch that had kept out the weather, and the wattled walls stood in sore need of a fresh coat of lime wash.
Foxe banged hard on the door, though he feared it might not withstand such an assault. Both ladies were somewhat hard of hearing. What income they lived on he could not imagine, for their school had closed down more than a decade ago. Perhaps one of the city’s charities provided for them. If he could find out which, he might discreetly add something of his own.
A skinny girl wearing a cut-down dress and an apron that had seen better years, not just days, opened the door then stood silent, as if she could not quite recall what came next. Foxe gave his name. He waited. She waited. At last he asked if he might be allowed to enter and speak with the ladies of the house. The maid considered this for a moment, then stood back and let him pass inside. Then, still in complete silence, she pointed to a room to his left and disappeared further within. In a moment, she was back.
‘They says you must follow me to where they are, sir. They also wants me to tell you they be right glad you’ve come. Few enough comes to visit them now – and never such gentleman as yourself while I’ve bin ‘ere. Then I’m to bring tea, they says, though where I’m to find that I ’as no notion.’
‘Here,’ Foxe said, giving her five whole shillings. ‘Go to the shops in Tombland. Whatever money is left, you may keep for your trouble.’
The girl’s eyes rounded like saucers and she rushed away, afraid he might change his mind.
The Misses Calderwood were just as he recalled them. Older and more shrunken now, but still as alert and excited as they were whenever he managed to visit them. Hannah, the elder by two years, wore an old-fashioned mobcap and huddled in a shawl. Her sister Abigail scorned more than a scrap of lace over her hair, white now where once it had been auburn, and peered at him through
a pair of spectacles perished askew on her nose.
‘Ladies,’ Foxe said. ‘I thank you for your condescension and willingness to forgive me coming unannounced.’
‘He always did have pretty manners,’ Miss Abigail said to her sister, speaking as if Foxe was not there. ‘Dresses well too.’ She turned to Foxe. ‘Well, sit you down Ashmole. Stop looming over us like some great lummox.’
‘Of course,’ Miss Hannah replied, ‘None of that counted for much. He might look as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but he was still a naughty child. Sneaky too. He’d look you in the eye and tell you lies enough to make Satan blush.’
The two old women regarded their visitor in a way that indicated he might be older, even richer, but they doubted that his morals had improved.
‘So, what do you want, young Ashmole?’ It was Hannah again. ‘You never did anything without a reason, even if no one else could see what it might be.’
‘Especially then,’ Abigail said. ‘His mind was like a corkscrew for directness. I never knew a more devious child.’
‘Mind you, Abby, the boy wasn’t wicked or malicious. Artful, I grant you. Devious like you said. Naughty too – though I never trusted any boy who wasn’t – but not bad inside. He might never take the highway when he could slip along the lanes unnoticed, but he usually tried to reach some good end.’
‘Remember that time we found him bringing a salve to cure Meggy Wimpole’s boils and putting it on her himself? It would have been a kind act, if he hadn’t persuaded her to take her dress and shift off to make the job easier.’
‘Still, I was sad to see him go to a proper school after his uncle died.’
‘Changed his life, that did. Where did that uncle get all his money, d’you reckon?’
‘No idea. Probably something shady.’
All this Foxe endured with a good grace. He knew they were teasing him, even though all they said was true enough. He had always found cunning superior to fighting as a way to get what you wanted. And though Meggy Wimpole was grubby, none too bright and her boils disgusting, she was unusually well-developed for her age. It was too good a chance to pass over.
The Fabric of Murder (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 2) Page 5