The Chelsea Strangler

by Susanna GREGORY

  ‘Stephens!’ Reymes looked around quickly. ‘Who seems to have escaped.’

  ‘And who probably informed Sutcliffe that the convoy was to be divided in two,’ said Chaloner. ‘Which means that Sutcliffe would have guessed that something was afoot, so he planned his revenge in the event of a trick. He ordered Stephens to saw through the axle and put gunpowder in the “non-rectory” carts—’

  ‘And blow the whole lot to kingdom come,’ finished Reymes. ‘No wonder he was unwilling to give chase!’

  ‘Well, look on the bright side,’ said Greeting, stooping to retrieve a guinea from the ground. ‘None of the thieves have the elephants – they are here, with us.’

  ‘For now,’ said Chaloner soberly. ‘However, I have a bad feeling that Sutcliffe is not far away, and when he hears the blast, he will know it is safe to come and see what might be salvaged.’

  They crept back to a scene of carnage. Some men groaned, others were dead, while the remainder hunted frantically for the scattered gold, desperate to redeem something from the disaster. Kipps lay on his back, his clothes in shreds and his eyes closed. Then there came the sound of drumming hoofs.

  Greeting sagged in defeat. ‘Here comes Sutcliffe now. He will kill us and have the gold.’

  Reymes whipped out his rapier. ‘I shall not sell my life cheaply. Come, stand with me, and we will give them something to remember. Christ God! I never imagined that I would die with a toady of Clarendon at my right hand, and a Court debauchee on my left.’

  ‘One more remark like that, and you can die alone,’ muttered Greeting acidly.

  Numbly, Chaloner drew his sword, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with them. The horsemen drew closer, then wheeled to a stop. Chaloner blinked his astonishment when he saw the lead rider.

  ‘I told you Kipps was a rogue,’ said Wiseman smugly. He snapped his fingers, telling the soldiers he had brought with him to round up the survivors. ‘I am never wrong about people, and I sensed the villain in him from the first. You should have listened to me.’

  ‘He was my friend,’ said Chaloner tiredly.

  ‘I am your friend,’ corrected the surgeon. ‘He is a thief. I suspected he was up to no good last night, when he installed Frances, Dorothy and me at an inn in Chiswick, and took off alone. So I rode hard to White Hall, collected these fellows, and came back here as fast as I could.’

  Chaloner went to kneel next to Kipps, whose eyes had fluttered open.

  ‘Tell Martin…’ the Seal Bearer whispered. ‘Tell him … think of something, Tom. I know you will do that for me … as I saved Hannah’s last letter for you.’

  ‘She guessed you would find it,’ said Chaloner softly. ‘It is why her message was so abstruse. She used a code, which she expected me, as an intelligencer, to understand. She named you as a traitor.’

  ‘Did she?’ Kipps shook his head slightly, a smile playing about his lips. ‘Women! They make fools of us all. Of course, they are not the only ones … It makes sense now … It has been so easy … I should have been suspicious. His Majesty is not stupid … no one will ever steal his coffers.’

  Chaloner glanced around him. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘But he and his favourites are devious…’ Kipps’ voice was growing weaker. ‘Why was it left to the Earl to suggest moving the Treasury? Why were you and I sent to investigate … shedding his writs and warrants with gay abandon? He has become a nuisance in the eyes of many … they long for him to fall … How much will they pay to see it happen?’

  Chaloner’s blood ran cold. ‘Are you saying this business has royal favour?’

  Kipps shrugged. ‘You will never know … not now it has failed. But I imagine there will be some angry men in Hampton Court tomorrow…’

  Epilogue

  London, a week later

  It took days to collect the guineas that had been scattered by the blast, although Chaloner, Reymes and the palace guards retrieved most of them in the end. Chaloner had been more than happy for Reymes to take the credit for their rescue, given what Kipps had claimed, but the unrestrained joy with which the gold had been received at Hampton Court left him uncertain of the truth.

  ‘It is a pity Reymes transpired to be innocent,’ the Earl had said, disgruntled. ‘You should have worked harder to uncover evidence of malfeasance. And I wish you had managed to conceal Kipps’ role in the affair. There are those who think I put him up to it.’

  Then he had sent Chaloner to Piccadilly, with orders to mind Clarendon House. It was meant as a punishment, to deprive him of the pleasures of the King’s company, although Chaloner had been glad to go. The only bright spark during his brief stay in Hampton Court had been smiles from Frances and her mother.

  He had arrived in London that morning. Unfortunately, the violent thunderstorms that had lashed the region had not broken the heatwave, and the city was hotter and more sultry than ever. Virtually everyone who could leave had gone, and the streets were disconcertingly empty.

  He went to make his report to Williamson, but the Spymaster’s offices were closed. A lone guard informed him that the whole operation had moved to Kent.

  ‘After one of his clerks died of the plague,’ the man explained, then added in an angry mutter, ‘He should have taken all of us with him. What did I do to deserve being left here to rot?’

  Supposing it explained why no troops had been provided when they had been so desperately needed, Chaloner trudged on. He reached Fleet Street, sorry when he saw the Rainbow was closed, and that the building next to it was marked with a red cross. He thought he glimpsed Farr’s face at an upstairs window, but the coffee-house owner did not return his wave.

  He turned up Chancery Lane and entered Lincoln’s Inn, because its garden was the only place he knew where the plague was not in evidence. The closed-up homes, tolling bells and constant graveyard processions were painful reminders of Hannah, and he wanted to escape them for a while. Then he saw a familiar figure sitting on a bench in the shade.

  ‘I thought you had gone to Oxfordshire!’ he exclaimed, delighted to see Thurloe, but also worried that something terrible had happened to keep his friend in the city.

  ‘One of the other passengers in the public coach kept sneezing, so I leapt out at Highgate and raced back here as fast as my legs would take me. I am now waiting for my wife to send our personal carriage, which is the only safe way to travel these days.’

  ‘But you are well?’

  ‘Quite well, thank you, although I am not sure the same can be said of you. Was Chelsea not the quiet retreat you envisaged?’

  Chaloner slumped next to him and told him all that had happened, although the ex-Spymaster’s lack of surprise suggested that much of it was not news. He could only suppose that Akers had obliged with one of his anonymous reports.

  ‘I liked and trusted Kipps,’ he concluded unhappily. ‘He always took my side at Clarendon House, even when it made him unpopular with the other staff, and he introduced me to his son. He was the last man I would have suspected of … whatever happened in the marshes.’

  ‘I can see why you are confused,’ said Thurloe sympathetically. ‘It is not at all clear whether he acted for himself or was a puppet of the King. However, the incident will certainly damage your master, which should be enough to earn your disapprobation.’

  ‘I know,’ sighed Chaloner. ‘For a start, his antics resulted in Sutcliffe running off with all the money intended for wounded sailors.’

  Thurloe smiled. ‘Not so, Tom. Several boxes of shillings were left anonymously at Sayes Court in Deptford five days ago. Perhaps the rebels are not such scoundrels after all.’

  ‘Everything was returned?’ asked Chaloner, astounded.

  ‘Not quite everything – a small percentage was retained to cover expenses.’

  ‘But they had been planning that theft for months! What made them change their minds?’

  ‘The deaths of Dove and Dendy, apparently, who were the driving force behind the scheme. The rest maintain that their war is
not against maimed seamen but the Crown, and they did the decent thing. They have now quit the country, although Sutcliffe did not go with them. His wound was more serious than anyone realised, and he died.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Thurloe nodded. ‘I saw the body myself.’

  ‘That is justice of a sort, I suppose.’ Chaloner sighed. ‘So now the government is free of all the claimants to the College – Sutcliffe and Kole are dead, while Wilkinson is locked in Bedlam.’

  ‘The best place for him,’ declared Thurloe. ‘But at least he is alive, unlike Nancy, Underhill, Kole, Cocke, Parker, Doyley, Sutcliffe, Warwick, Kipps…’

  ‘And Stephens,’ said Chaloner. ‘He doubled back to get some of the gold, at which point the palace guards shot him. He made a full confession before he died – Sutcliffe did order him to rig the carts with explosives, which were to be ignited after the axle broke.’

  ‘But only if they contained none of the King’s money, presumably. Sutcliffe had no reason to wreak revenge on the Treasury otherwise.’

  ‘He wanted them blown up regardless, although I suspect he knew by then that Kipps and Warwick were planning to make off with it.’

  ‘Well, I did warn you that he was dangerous, and while I am not a man to delight in the death of another, I feel the world is a safer place without him. Of course, Stephens would not have retained his post even if he had been innocent. Reymes has made a clean sweep of the Treasury, and appointed a whole new set of officials. Unfortunately, you will not be one of its Sergeants at Arms.’

  ‘I imagine not, given my association with the Earl.’

  ‘On the contrary, Reymes is impressed with your integrity. However, he feels it is wiser to make a fresh start with men he can train from scratch.’

  ‘Then let us hope he recruits better ones than Kipps and Warwick.’

  Thurloe sighed. ‘Yet I understand why they acted as they did. They were left to take their chances in a plague-ridden city, while others – perhaps less deserving – were whisked to safety. No one likes to think of himself as expendable.’

  ‘I am expendable,’ said Chaloner gloomily. ‘My orders are to mind Dunkirk House while the Earl and his family enjoy Hampton Court.’

  ‘He will send for you soon enough,’ predicted Thurloe. ‘You are more useful to him than you know. But Chelsea was a sorry business, Tom. Reymes’ ploy to turn Buckingham House into a minor White Hall, to distract attention from the rectory, almost worked in the rebels’ favour.’

  ‘He was not the only one who created diversions: Sutcliffe set about frightening folk as the “spectre”, while Franklin ordered Cocke to steal money from Gorges’ funds…’

  ‘Although sending prisoners to burgle London houses was not a smokescreen for the business at the rectory. That was just Tooker and the Franklin brothers seizing an opportunity for profit.’

  Chaloner nodded. ‘Tooker should never have been appointed warden. You knew he was corrupt, and the government should have done, too.’

  ‘The Earl was right to send you to investigate Gorges,’ mused Thurloe. ‘Of its governors, Franklin and Cocke plotted to steal the King’s gold, Underhill was a spy, Kole was a voyeur, and Parker was experimenting on his charges.’

  ‘And himself, which is why he took to wandering around Chelsea in full plague costume, even though it must have been fearfully hot.’

  ‘Then there were the Colliers and the dancing masters,’ Thurloe went on. ‘All thieves, living under Gorges’ roof.’

  ‘I suspect Franklin guessed what they were doing, but turned a blind eye, because it was something else that stopped people from looking too closely at the rectory.’

  ‘And in the end there were two schemes to steal His Majesty’s gold,’ said Thurloe. ‘The ridiculously elaborate one orchestrated by Doyley, Sutcliffe, Franklin and the dissidents, and the equally ridiculously simple one devised by Kipps and Warwick.’

  ‘But both failed – fortunately.’

  ‘Thanks to you and your helpmeets,’ said Thurloe. ‘Especially Eleanore, who saved you from Dove’s sword. I am sorry I did not have the chance to meet her.’

  Chaloner said nothing. He had not known Eleanore well, yet her death was a sharp pain in his heart that surprised him with its intensity. It made him feel guilty, as he had not experienced anything nearly as strong for Hannah. Did that make him a poor husband, who quickly allowed other women to rise high in his estimation? Or were the two inextricably tangled in his mind, and distress for one was really grief for the other?

  ‘Come to Oxfordshire,’ said Thurloe kindly. ‘There is room in my carriage, and your company would be welcome. Then you can defend me from any rogue who tries to breathe on me.’

  ‘I wish I could, but my orders are to stay here. I doubt the Earl will appreciate me abandoning Dunkirk House.’

  ‘Why? London is much safer now that Spring and his surviving cronies are installed in Newgate. Besides, the Earl will not refuse a request from me, and I am disinclined to leave you here while your spirits are low. It has not been long since Hannah died, after all.’

  ‘Hannah,’ sighed Chaloner despondently. ‘I failed her in so many ways. I did not even understand her letter until it was almost too late to matter. I cannot imagine what it must have cost her to write as she lay dying.’

  ‘She loved you,’ said Thurloe gently. ‘Or she would not have bothered. Just be grateful for it.’

  ‘She died while I was at sea,’ said Chaloner unhappily. ‘So how could she have known that I would be involved in the matter?’

  ‘I doubt she did. She was just letting you know that Kipps was not all he seemed, and that if the Sick and Hurt Fund ever disappeared, you should look to Sutcliffe and his regicide friends Dove and Dendy for the culprits.’

  ‘Well, she was brave, and I am proud of her, so I have decided to erect a monument to her in our parish church at Westminster. A gaudily expensive one, just as she would have liked. I will not leave London until it is done.’

  ‘Any mason worth his salt has fled the city. But why not commission one in the place where she was born, where it is more likely to stand out?’

  ‘I suppose the Westminster church is already stuffed with them,’ acknowledged Chaloner. ‘And she always did speak fondly of her childhood home…’

  ‘It is decided then,’ said Thurloe. ‘We shall do it together on our journey to Oxfordshire.’

  Chaloner left Lincoln’s Inn in a much happier frame of mind. He returned to Covent Garden, and began to pack for the journey. He would enjoy relaxing in the easy company of Thurloe’s family, and if the Earl did not like him leaving Clarendon House, then that was just too bad.

  When he had finished, he glanced at his new viol. He grabbed it, sat down and launched straight into one of his favourite pieces – a lively air by Lawes. He played better than he had done in weeks, the instrument finally yielding to his touch, and for the first time, he began to feel at one with it. It sang in his hands, and he bowed for a long time before setting it down with a feeling of enormous satisfaction.

  Then he took a pen and began to draw, and soon had a whole series of sketches that caught Hannah perfectly, from the jaunty angle of her head to the merry twinkle in her eyes. Afterwards, he drew Eleanore, a darker, more shadowy portrait of a woman he had known barely at all. He gathered them up carefully, and put them ready to take to Oxfordshire.

  His garret was hot, so he sat on the windowsill to read Hannah’s letter for the umpteenth time. Thurloe was right: she had loved him enough to spend her last moments trying to pass him important information, and he should not doubt the strength of her feelings for him. As he gazed at the words through eyes that were suddenly misty, a gust of wind plucked the worn paper from his fingers, and he almost toppled out of the window trying to catch it. It sailed across Fleet Street, where an upwind snagged it, and it fluttered out of sight.

  Historical Note

  The Great Plague of London is so well known that it needs no explanation here
, other than to say that by July 1665, it had people well and truly frightened. Those who could leave the city went in droves, to places like Woolwich and Deptford, which were regarded as safe. Some doubtless fled to Chelsea, then in the country and surrounded by fields and market gardens. It was known as the village of mansions for its large number of stately homes – at least eight, some of which had hosted monarchs. One was known at that time as Buckingham House, although it had several different names in its history.

  Another mansion was Gorges House, which started life as the family home of Arthur Gorges, son-in-law to the Earl of Lincoln, in the early 1600s. It later became a boarding school for girls, and was demolished in the early eighteenth century. Chelsea was famous for its lunatic asylums at this stage, and one was run by Mrs Bonney. Dancing was thought to be beneficial for those in delicate mental health, and two dancing masters in seventeenth-century Chelsea were James Hart and Jeffrey Bannister.

  The rectory, rebuilt and restored several times through the ages, was sold into private hands in the 1980s. Its incumbent in 1665 was Samuel Wilkinson, who was also the last provost of Chelsea’s infamous Theological College.

  The foundation stone for this particular institution was laid by King James I in 1609. It was intended to promote the study of radical divinity – a contemporary archbishop dubbed it ‘Controversial College’ – but it was expensive to run, and the see-sawing religious opinions in the seventeenth century ensured it was doomed to failure. It was all but ruinous by the mid 1660s, at which point the Royal Society decided it might make a rather nice headquarters. Permission was granted for them to use it, but then war was declared on the Dutch, and the building was hurriedly put to use as a prison for captured sailors.

  Some of these seamen had been taken after the Battle of Lowestoft on 3 June 1665 (Old Style). We will probably never know the real number of the dead and wounded, and modern estimates vary widely. However, the official reports of the time record English losses as fewer than seven hundred, while the Dutch are alleged to have suffered between six and ten thousand killed or taken prisoner. Jacob Oudart was master of Stad Utrecht, which was set alight by a British fireship sent by Admiral Berkeley from his flagship HMS Swiftsure.