The Chelsea Strangler

by Susanna GREGORY

  The Gorges board of governors was being entertained by Kipps when Chaloner and the Earl arrived. The two medical men were identifiable by their black coats and hats. Parker was long-nosed, thin and restless, while Franklin was younger and plump, with a merry twinkle in his eye that suggested dealing with mad ladies had not deprived him of his sense of humour. Chaloner had the feeling that he would be more pleasant company than his surly brother.

  Mrs Bonney could not have been more woefully misnamed, and was one of the least handsome people Chaloner had ever met. She was powerfully built, with hairs sprouting from her chin, ears and nose, and beefy arms that were no doubt useful for restraining awkward patients. Accompter Cocke had homed in on her, apparently in the belief that no female should be exempt from his lecherous attentions, and was flummoxing her with whispered innuendos and sly movements of his sweaty hands.

  The last two were Underhill and Kole. The Earl was right about Underhill, Chaloner thought, because the fellow’s plain clothes and cropped hair did make him look like a Roundhead. Yet his manners and speech were polished, almost excessively so. He was admiring his host’s books, taking them from the shelves to run covetous fingers over their bindings.

  Kole, by contrast, was all frills and fluff. However, the lace that frothed too extravagantly at his throat was of poor quality, while his sword was cheaply made, and likely to snap at the first riposte. His wig was obviously borrowed, because it did not fit him properly, and the shine on his shoes was due to paint, rather than the gleam of expensive leather.

  Was one of them responsible for the thefts, as the Earl had suggested? Chaloner assessed each in turn as Kipps embarked on a lengthy monologue about the city’s latest plague measures. The most obvious suspect was Cocke, whose job as accompter would give him access to the money. But any hint of dishonesty would see him dismissed from the Treasury – a post that would earn a lot more than thirty pounds and a few baubles. Surely, he would not take the risk? The same was true of Mrs Bonney and the physicians, who would also have much to lose by indulging in unscrupulous practices. That left Kole and Underhill, and Chaloner decided to concentrate on them first.

  ‘Smoking will not keep the plague out of Gorges,’ Underhill was declaring with considerable conviction. ‘Tobacco is the devil’s herb, and will do more harm than good. Do not issue the inmates with pipes, Parker. Give them London Treacle instead.’

  ‘That would be expensive,’ remarked the Earl uneasily. ‘Who will pay?’

  ‘You, of course,’ replied Underhill, and brandished the book he held, the clasp of which was solid gold. ‘You have plenty of money.’

  ‘I do not believe that London Treacle is a particularly efficacious solution, personally,’ said Dr Franklin, much to the Earl’s obvious relief. ‘Time-honoured remedies are always best, and I never leave home without a simple sponge soaked in vinegar.’

  ‘Coffee,’ whispered Parker, biting a fingernail and regarding the company with quick, furtive glances. ‘It has many admirable properties, as we are discovering at Gorges. I believe the only way to combat the pestilence is by chewing the raw beans.’

  He produced a box with a flourish, and offered them round. Everyone took one except Mrs Bonney and Franklin, who claimed they had tried them once and would not make the same mistake twice. Chaloner soon saw their point: the beans were foul, and tasted nothing like when they had been roasted.

  ‘I think I might prefer the plague,’ muttered the Earl, snapping his fingers for Kipps to bring him wine to wash away the flavour.

  ‘Of course, we all know that the pestilence is spread by burglars,’ declared Cocke. ‘They invade the homes of the sick in search of easy loot, then pass the disease to those they meet on their way home.’

  ‘Burglars have been more active recently,’ agreed Parker, looking around as if he imagined some might appear in Clarendon House there and then.

  ‘They have, but they are not so stupid as to prey on plague victims,’ countered Underhill, his Roundhead features full of scorn. ‘They target empty homes, ones belonging to the cowards who have fled the city in fear for their lives.’

  ‘Cowards, like government ministers,’ said Kole sourly, not looking at the Earl. ‘And it serves them right. They rob people with their high taxes and their sly interpretations of the law, so they should know what it feels like to lose their most cherished possessions.’

  ‘Time is passing,’ said the Earl, eyeing him coolly. ‘So let us be about our business. We are all busy people, after all.’

  He conducted them into the chilly expanse of the Great Roome, and indicated that they should sit at the table. He took the chair at its head, with Mrs Bonney and the physicians on one side, and everyone else on the other. Chaloner took up station by the window, where he could watch and learn without being obliged to contribute, and Kipps stood by the door.

  Cocke laid out pen and paper to make notes of the proceedings, and then he and his fellow board members regarded the Earl expectantly, waiting for him to declare the meeting open – all except Underhill, who was more interested in the books that lined the walls, at which he gazed with open longing.

  ‘Jem, Lil and Una Collier have settled well at the almshouse,’ reported Mrs Bonney, when the Earl nodded to say she could begin. ‘They will be an asset to us in time.’

  ‘In time?’ echoed the Earl, frowning. ‘Why not at once? The agreement was to house and feed them in exchange for their labour. Surely they should be an asset immediately?’

  ‘They are still finding their feet,’ explained Mrs Bonney. ‘They—’

  ‘But they moved in months ago,’ argued the Earl. ‘They should have found them by now.’

  ‘They hail from Bath, so Chelsea is still new and strange,’ said Franklin. ‘However, we hired them out to the Theological College this week, and Warden Tooker will pay us for their services. Not much, admittedly, but every little helps, and we are very short of funds.’

  ‘What about the thefts?’ asked the Earl, ignoring the bald hint that more donations were needed. ‘Have you made any headway in tracking down the culprit?’

  ‘Not yet,’ replied Parker. ‘Although I am inclined to think that an inmate is responsible – not from malice, but from illness.’

  The Earl regarded him oddly. ‘I thought you took gentlewomen with unbalanced humours. I did not realise that you housed the criminally insane as well. Another Bedlam, in fact.’

  ‘Gorges is a world apart from Bedlam,’ flashed Parker indignantly. ‘We treat ailments with kindness and understanding. And coffee, of course.’

  ‘Coffee?’ repeated the Earl uncertainly.

  ‘We believe it can cure madness, sir,’ explained Franklin, politely deferential to a major benefactor. ‘The bean has many admirable properties, and one is to—’

  ‘These thefts have gone on far too long,’ interrupted the Earl, more interested in the money. He pointed at Chaloner. ‘So my intelligencer here will investigate on my behalf. He will start his enquiries on Friday, after he has delivered me to Hampton Court.’

  There was an immediate clamour of objections: the board was unanimous in its opinion that no such measures were needed.

  ‘It would upset the residents and be counterproductive,’ declared Underhill, his shrill voice rising above them all. ‘We would rather handle the matter ourselves.’

  ‘I am sure you would,’ said the Earl coolly. ‘But it has been more than a month since this matter was first reported to me, and you are still no nearer to catching the culprit.’

  ‘These things cannot be rushed,’ declared Parker. ‘And Underhill is right: your man’s presence will distress our patients.’

  ‘It is true,’ said Franklin, while Mrs Bonney nodded at his side. ‘Some of our ladies are in a very fragile state, and we cannot risk an outsider coming in with a lot of impertinent questions.’

  ‘After all, we do not want their wealthy kin to take them away,’ added Underhill slyly. ‘It would not only damage their chances of recovery,
but also deprive us of much-needed income.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ agreed Kole. ‘It is better that we tackle the culprit internally.’

  ‘You have done your best, no doubt,’ said the Earl shortly. ‘But you have failed, so it is time for me to intervene. And that is my final word on the matter.’

  Chaloner listened to the discussion with interest, intrigued that none of the governors wanted him to pry into their world. He had not taken to Underhill, Cocke or Kole, while Parker was jittery and ill at ease. Mrs Bonney and Franklin seemed more sanguine about the prospect of a detective in their midst, but perhaps they were just more adept at hiding their true opinions. He found he was rather looking forward to unearthing the secrets that this mismatched group hoped to hide from him.

  ‘Rather you than me,’ said Kipps, once the governors had gone, and he and Chaloner were sitting in the staff parlour on the top floor, which boasted a splendid view of the Earl’s scrubby vegetable patches. ‘I should not like to go to Chelsea. I am looking forward to Hampton Court.’

  ‘Are you?’ Chaloner thought there could be little worse than a lot of courtiers crammed into a palace that, while sizeable, was still considerably smaller than White Hall.

  The Seal Bearer smiled dreamily. ‘Lady Castlemaine will be there, and I have missed her glorious attributes this last month.’

  The King’s mistress’s thighs represented Heaven on Earth, as far as Kipps was concerned, and he was so enamoured of them that he was willing to overlook the fact that they belonged to one of his employer’s most deadly adversaries.

  ‘Have you ever been to Chelsea?’ asked Chaloner, thinking there was no harm in starting his enquiries early, and so aiming to learn a little about the village and its residents.

  Kipps nodded. ‘My wife had a melancholy last year, so I put her in Gorges for a spell. It is a good place – she came home happy, healthy and tranquil of mind.’

  Chaloner wondered if he should have taken Hannah there, as then she might not have gone to the theatre when everyone had warned her against it. Was it his fault that she was dead? Because he was a poor husband who had failed to notice that she had needed a guiding hand? Should he have tried to secure employment that did not necessitate leaving her alone for months at a time?

  ‘How did you hear about Gorges?’ he asked, to stem the tide of guilty thoughts.

  ‘Surgeon Wiseman recommended it. He has a lunatic wife of his own, so knows all the best asylums.’ Kipps smiled. ‘I admire our Earl for supporting Gorges. The other governors pay what they can, but he supplies the bulk of its funding.’

  ‘I was under the impression that all the inmates were from wealthy families. Do they not pay boarding fees?’

  ‘Of course, but there is still a shortfall. Our Earl ensures that the place runs as it should, and that Parker has enough money for his experiments.’

  ‘And all because an aunt was there in the Commonwealth?’ asked Chaloner sceptically.

  ‘A very sad case, by all accounts, but Gorges cured her. Mrs Bonney might be a dragon, but she runs an efficient operation – or she did before the thief struck – while Franklin and Parker are devoted medical men who are gentle with their charges. However, the board could do without Underhill, Cocke and Kole. None are men I like.’

  ‘No?’ probed Chaloner. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Underhill claims to be a gentleman, but there is something about him that does not quite ring true. And who are his kin? I know none of them.’

  ‘Why would you? He is a Parliamentarian, and your acquaintances tend to be Cavaliers.’

  ‘It is more than that, Tom. There is something … something awry about him. Meanwhile, Cocke is a scoundrel, as you will have sensed when I introduced you earlier, and you should investigate him first. He will almost certainly transpire to be corrupt.’

  ‘Do you have any particular reason to accuse him?’

  ‘Instinct. He is a rogue, and I shall dance naked in King Street if you discover otherwise. And as for Kole, he is like a keg of gunpowder – he is furious that the government cheated him over the Theological College, and is set to explode.’

  ‘Stealing thirty pounds and a few trinkets is exploding?’

  Kipps eyed him beadily. ‘No, but it could be a start. He is a speculator, which means he takes risks in the hope of huge returns. He wins some and loses others, but this was loss on a massive scale, and he is not the type to take it lying down. I doubt he holds the Earl personally responsible, but you never know. I advise you to watch him very carefully.’

  Chaloner nodded his thanks for the warning. ‘Why were any of them chosen to serve on the board? I understand Mrs Bonney and the medici – they work there – but Underhill, Kole and Cocke seem odd selections.’

  ‘Parker invited Underhill, because they are friends and live together. Meanwhile, Kole was the richest man in the village when he owned the Theological College; now he is the poorest, but Parker said it would be unkind to dismiss him, so he remains. And finally, Cocke offered his accompting services for a very modest sum, so he was accepted with alacrity.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ asked Chaloner suspiciously.

  ‘He said it was to support a worthy cause, although I do not believe him. I think he just wants to get at Gorges’ ladies. Our Earl would be delighted if Cocke was the culprit, because Cocke is a crony of his enemy Reymes – as is Kole, for that matter. If you embarrass Reymes by exposing him as a man with corrupt acquaintances, the Earl’s gratitude will know no bounds.’

  ‘Well, then,’ said Chaloner, ‘I had better see what I can do.’

  As the Earl had decreed that Chaloner could not travel to Chelsea until Friday – although the Gorges governors would be in London anyway, for the following night’s soirée at Clarendon House – Chaloner decided to move his enquiries along by visiting Wiseman, to see what the surgeon could tell him about the asylum.

  A glance at the Earl’s several expensive clocks told him that Wiseman would be in White Hall, dosing its few remaining staff with anti-plague remedies. The fear of infection was so great that they could not be trusted to physick themselves, as most were of the opinion that the more they swallowed, the safer they would be. They would not be the first to poison themselves with something intended to protect.

  He walked along Piccadilly, then turned south at Charing Cross, acutely aware of the subdued, anxious atmosphere that permeated everything and everyone. Folk scurried along with their heads down, as if they imagined that even catching the eye of another person might be enough to bring them low, and bells tolled almost without stopping.

  He arrived at White Hall and aimed for the chapel, where he knew Wiseman would be working. The surgeon, like many in his trade, was of the opinion that his remedies were more effective when administered in a holy place. Chaloner had no idea whether it worked or was rank superstition, but he understood why medici were eager to leave nothing to chance where the plague was concerned.

  Wiseman was an imposing figure – tall, broad and clad in red from head to toe. He had thick auburn locks that tumbled around his shoulders, and even his boots were scarlet. He added to his impressive physique with a regime of lifting heavy stones each morning, so he was enormously strong. Chaloner pitied his patients, suspecting that if he decided that a particular course of treatment was in order, few would be able to fend him off.

  Chaloner was not sure why he liked Wiseman, who was arrogant, rude and egotistical. He supposed it was because he had learned how to see beyond the medicus’s flaws to his virtues, which included a deep sense of loyalty to those he deemed worthy and an unshakeable sense of justice. At first, he had resisted the surgeon’s overtures of friendship, but Wiseman had persisted, and Chaloner was now glad of it. It was Wiseman who had written to tell him about Hannah’s death, and who had used his influence to help find where she had been buried.

  ‘There,’ Wiseman said, as his last patient gulped down the potion he offered and fled outside to giggle with her cronies. ‘I have don
e all I can, and if they succumb now, it will not be my fault.’

  ‘Have you seen the latest Bill?’ asked Chaloner, referring to the official mortality figures that were published each week. Every Londoner knew that the real numbers were actually far higher, but they studied them assiduously anyway, hoping to see some sign that the disease was beginning to loosen its hold.

  ‘More than eighteen hundred dead of the pestilence in seven days,’ replied the surgeon grimly. ‘There will be even more next week, and cases will continue to rise until winter bites. These terrible visitations are always the same, and we have not seen the worst of this one yet.’

  As if to prove him right, the bells of nearby St Margaret’s began to ring for a child.

  ‘So there was truth in all those omens?’ asked Chaloner, talking more to distract himself from the mournful sound than because he wanted an answer. ‘The strange new stars, the oddly shaped clouds, the streams that ran with blood instead of water?’

  ‘I do not know about that, but I can tell you that the weather is not helping. First, there was a bitterly cold winter, then an unusually wet spring, and now this scorching summer. Tens of thousands will die, and the King is wise to take himself to a safe place.’

  ‘But you will stay?’

  ‘Only fools linger in the city now – or folk with nowhere else to go. I shall join the King in Hampton Court in a few days. I have already sent my servants and most valuable possessions on ahead of me, because far too many burglars are at large to risk leaving anything behind. As you should know, given that you were a victim yourself.’

  ‘My house was not stripped bare by burglars, but by the maid and footman that Hannah hired when I was away. They were afraid they would be turned out when I came home, so they aimed to steal enough to tide them over until they could find other employment.’

  ‘And would you have turned them out?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Chaloner shortly. Hannah had possessed an unerring capacity to select the most sullen and dishonest rogues available, and there was no reason to suppose that the last pair had been any different from the rest, even though he had never met them.