Most Secret

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by Kathleen Buckley


  They were out of the chairmen’s hearing before he said in unaccented English, “And neither would I. That is the duty of the excise officers. But we are at war with France. If Captain O’Brien is bringing in…oh, French spies or something which affects the security of the realm, Mr. Markham might well have been alarmed. And if that is the case, O’Brien is my…ah…superior’s lawful prey.”

  “But now that my uncle is dead, what more can you do? Though I suppose you might make inquiries about the ship?”

  “I have done so, without learning much. It has left port. But there is another question in addition to what brought the captain to England. Your uncle was curious about O’Brien’s presence here, and now your uncle is dead. It seems an odd coincidence.”

  “You think they are related.”

  “I cannot be certain, but the death was unexpected and the doctor clearly finds it mysterious. And he is not even aware of the circumstances relating to the Sea Mew.”

  “Oh,” Jane said, pondering. “But surely it is only coincidence? Who would know Uncle Markham was taking an interest in the ship? And why would it be important enough to cause someone to murder him? Particularly now the ship has sailed?”

  “ ‘Who’ is certainly a question. ‘Why’ is more easily answered, is it not? If O’Brien’s activities threatened our government?”

  “If he were a traitor?”

  “Any sensible fellow would prefer to avoid the penalty for treason.”

  “Which I believe is very severe,” Jane remarked.

  “To be drawn on a hurdle while the crowd pelts you with rocks and filth to the place of execution, there to be hanged and taken down yet alive, to have one’s entrails cut out and burned, and then to be cut into four quarters—well, five, really, as the head is taken off and displayed over Temple Bar. Yes, one might well want to avoid such a fate.” He paused. “Although, as Captain O’Brien is Irish, it might be unfair to consider anything he did treason, as no doubt he regards England as having invaded and occupied Ireland. Mind you, that’s not the view the Crown would take, merely my own feeling.”

  He glanced at Jane’s face. “I beg your pardon. I forgot I was speaking to a young lady. I should not have burdened you with the details.”

  “I have no aversion to facts, sir. A young woman must always guard her tongue in order to be thought maidenly and therefore is often subjected to trivialities. I prefer to hear the unvarnished truth, however unpleasant. May I ask, are you not accustomed to speaking to ladies?”

  “I am, but as I admitted, I am a strange man. We do try to protect ladies and children. It must sometimes be annoying. Indeed, as a former child, I know it is.”

  “Protect ladies and let women fend for themselves?” she inquired wryly, to conceal the effect of his words. Gordon’s artless admission made her want to laugh at the same time his unexpected perception caused her to blink away tears. One could not weep in public. She had never met a man who understood that to be expected to converse only about safe, uncontroversial topics and ignore unpleasant facts, was infuriating. Except her uncle, of course, and Jane was not sure he objected to it for the same reason she did. He would have called the bland conversation considered suitable for ladies “intellectual pap.” She wished Uncle Markham had been able to introduce them; it would have made all proper then. She hoped it would be possible to continue the acquaintance.

  “Consider the fact that a gentleman must pay his gambling debts or ruin his own reputation but pays his tailor’s bill late and grudgingly, if he pays at all, and no one thinks the worse of him.”

  “No one? I could not respect a man who failed to meet his obligations.”

  “But you may be exceptional. Nor could I, in fact. Only think how uncomfortable it would be to owe money to someone. Anyone. I don’t, by the way.” He beamed at her.

  Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. The only response that occurred to her was, “You appear to be quite exceptional yourself,” but she could hardly say so.

  When she did not speak, he went on. “After speaking with your uncle, I wanted to ask if you’d found out why Mr. Rupert Stowe visited the Sea Mew.”

  “No. When I mentioned it to Rupert, he said Uncle must have been mistaken. He made a jest of it and asked if I thought he planned to run away to sea.”

  “But you think he was on that ship.”

  “I do. He was too emphatic. Like a little boy denying he’d eaten all the Portugal cakes, with the crumbs down his front.”

  They were at the steps to the Stowes’ front door.

  “I will leave you here. If anyone asks, remember where you met me. I feel sure I can trust you not to tell anyone what we talked about or that I interviewed Mr. Markham, not even if you are asked under oath. Not that it’s at all likely. I cannot tell you why I ask it, yet. And Mistress Jane?” He paused.

  “Yes?”

  “Whatever happens, you have no reason to fear.”

  He executed a neat bow and walked away. There had been something a little alarming in his parting words; all the same, she was sorry to see him go.

  ****

  Later that day, while she was sorting through the linen closet for worn sheets and pillow cases in need of repair or replacement, her father came in search of her. This was so unusual, when she heard his voice, she started and dropped the sheet she was inspecting. She was more accustomed to be ordered to come to his study.

  His face was pale.

  “Sir, are you unwell?”

  “No! Not at all. I am surprised and vexed. I have been informed that the inquest is to be held tomorrow at Markham’s house.”

  “I should like to attend, if you—”

  “You must attend, whether you wish to or not, and whether I approve or not, as the coroner has summoned you to be present. I will escort you.”

  Chapter 4

  Excerpts from testimony given at the inquest upon the death of Roger Markham, as taken down by a clerk employed by Sir Thomas de Veil, Magistrate, of Bow Street, for his own use:

  Coroner: Doctor Adkins, you have described the symptoms displayed by your patient. In your opinion, what was the cause of death?

  Witness: I believe it to have been arsenical poisoning.

  Coroner: Will you explain your reasons for thinking so?

  Witness: The extreme pain in the stomach, the vomiting and purging, the color of the vomitus, and the cramping and numbness that are typically found in poisonings by arsenic were all present.

  Coroner: That is very interesting indeed.

  Juror: I would like to ask what Mr. Markham ate and drank to his supper?”

  Coroner: We will hear testimony on those questions from Markham’s cook and butler.

  Coroner: Please identify yourself, ma’am.

  Witness: Jane Ellen Stowe. Roger Markham was my uncle.

  Coroner: Were you on good terms with your uncle Markham?

  Witness: Yes.

  Coroner: How often did you see him?

  Witness: I usually visited him once a week.

  Coroner: Do you know Mr. Markham’s testamentary dispositions? That is to say, who benefits under his will?

  Witness: I believe I do. I am—was—his only remaining family. He told me several years ago I was his heir. I don’t know what other bequests he may have made, but I would think at least he must have left sums to his valet, cook, housekeeper, and butler, all of whom had been with him many years. He also gave to various charities, so they may receive something also.

  Coroner: Did you cause to be delivered to him a gift of shrimps on Tuesday last?

  Witness: No.

  Coroner: And yet we have heard testimony from Mr. Markham’s cook that the messenger who delivered the shrimps said they were a gift from Jane Stowe to her uncle.

  Witness: I cannot account for it.

  Coroner: Having established the identity of the deceased, and time and place of death, I ask the jury to state whether they have determined the cause of decedent’s death?

  Jury F
oreman: We think it happened by arsenic poison, sir, and should be investigated as a murder.

  Coroner: I thank you all for your service and will present your verdict to the magistrate’s court at Bow Street.

  ****

  Her father’s mood was thunderous. He retired to his study immediately upon their return from the inquest, only pausing to respond to Elvira’s question as to the findings with a snarled, “As bad as they could be!”

  “Whatever does your papa mean?” she asked Jane.

  “The jury ruled it murder, ma’am.”

  “Murder! Surely not?”

  “The doctor thought otherwise. Apparently, there were signs by which he recognized it as poisoning.”

  “Who could have done such a thing? Unless his cook, perhaps. Who could have a better opportunity? Or the kitchen maid, I suppose.”

  Jane did not feel she cared to mention that Uncle Markham had received a delivery of shrimps said to be from her, and that they had composed his last meal. Her stepmother went on speculating and marveling while Jane darned a small rent in a pillowcase. She felt quite ill herself, as the testimony might lead anyone to suppose she had been guilty of poisoning Roger Markham. Mr. Gordon’s peculiar remark returned to her mind. He had said not to fear, which should be comforting, but instead raised a number of questions in her mind.

  “At least, sad as the occurrence is, you will be coming into an inheritance,” Elvira observed.

  “I would far rather it had been postponed. My uncle expected to live many more years.”

  “One must be practical, and no matter what he expected, a man of fifty-some years can hardly assume he has so long left to him. The cook or the kitchen maid must have done it, and you may be sure one or the other will be tried and hanged.”

  Unfortunately, her father entered the parlor in time to hear this opinion.

  “Unless they try and hang my daughter, madam! Has Jane not mentioned that the jury clearly suspected her?”

  “Jane? Ridiculous. Why should they think she would kill Markham?”

  Jane blushed, feeling unreasonably guilty.

  “The fellow who delivered the shrimps claimed they were a gift from Jane,” her father said, tight-lipped. “And there is the inheritance.”

  “That does not mean they were already poisoned, if it were poison, and not simply bad shrimp. What shop sold it, Jane? No doubt there were other buyers who suffered ill effects from his shrimps. Or else someone in his household put the fatal dose in.”

  “Jane denied sending them.” He glared at her as if she should have admitted doing so.

  “I did not send them, however.”

  “I suppose we must expect her to be taken into custody at any time. You had best not leave the house, Jane. You are sure to be an object of curiosity and even hostility.”

  “What will people say?” Elvira wailed. She groped blindly in the pocket concealed between her skirt and the petticoat beneath it, and brought out a handkerchief and a vial of sal volatile.

  “I prefer not to speculate,” her father retorted, ignoring Stepmama’s signs of incipient hysterics in the hope of averting them, Jane knew. “Jane, we will make your excuses to the Angleseys this evening.”

  This reminder of a very desirable social engagement caused Elvira to take a steadying breath and put away the vial, though she did use the handkerchief to dab delicately at the corners of her eyes.

  But as it fell out, none of the Stowes were to be seen at the Angleseys’ dinner, as Sir Thomas de Veil paid a call upon them at the inconvenient hour of six in the evening.

  Jane, called away from mediating a dispute between the cook and the butler, met her father and stepmother in the corridor outside the parlor. “Under the circumstances, he could not be refused,” Stowe muttered before the footman opened the door.

  “I apologize for calling at this hour, sir, but my court runs long,” de Veil said. “And the situation is delicate.”

  “You may well say so, Sir Thomas. I suppose you will wish to speak with my daughter?”

  “Thank you for coming here to do it,” Elvira murmured. “I was in dread a magistrate’s officer would come for her.”

  “It’s all nonsense anyway,” Stowe said. “Jane would never do such a wicked and ill-bred thing.”

  Jane closely observed Sir Thomas, who was studying her father and stepmother with equal interest.

  “I have no questions for Mistress Jane at this time,” he said with a slight smile. “I can assure you there is no immediate likelihood of her arrest. I have received information which strongly suggests her innocence.”

  “Thank God!”

  “Not that the blemish on her reputation can ever be wiped out,” Elvira said.

  Sir Thomas waited a moment, as if expecting one of them to say something more. Jane was obliged to ask, when neither her father nor stepmother did so, “Have you discovered a more likely suspect than I, Sir Thomas?”

  “While I have not yet discovered him, a confidential informant has divulged several potentially exculpatory facts. No grocer has been found who sold potted shrimps to any young lady of your description. They might have been bought in a shop or from an inn. Your cook and kitchen staff swear they did not make the dish nor did Mistress Jane. Mr. Markham’s cook did not make them, and she, the housekeeper, and butler refuse to believe you would harm your uncle. I find servants usually have a shrewd notion of the characters of their employers and their families. Also, there has been an indication someone else may have had a compelling reason to make away with your uncle.”

  “But why would the boy say Jane had sent the shrimps if she did not?” Elvira asked.

  Thank you for your confidence in me, Stepmama.

  “Madam, a murderer will hardly stick at throwing the blame on someone else. Often the obvious suspect is guilty, but sometimes the availability of an ‘obvious’ suspect prevents further investigation which might reveal an equally likely suspect. At present, I and my constables are investigating information received, about which I can say no more.”

  Jane was insensibly cheered by the magistrate’s visit, but overall the household’s mood was glum. At breakfast, Rupert attempted to lighten the atmosphere, but his jocular demand, “So you made away with the old fellow at last! When will you get your inheritance?” for once drew his father’s wrath down on him.

  Even Elvira reproached him with, “What would anyone think who heard you, my dear? They might not realize you were only teasing. And even if no one heard, it shows a lack of feeling and conduct.”

  Being accustomed to her family’s ways, she was not deeply wounded. Was greater warmth and affection to be found in other families? Perhaps not, to judge by the Pleasaunces. Mr. Paul Pleasaunce, Charles and Claire’s father, was austere. Mistress Pleasaunce was a complete cipher who never expressed an opinion or even a preference. Claire appeared to be a young lady of shallow feelings.

  She wished Rupert and Charles Pleasaunce were not such good friends, but Rupert had always regarded Charles as a sort of elder brother. She did not suspect him of leading her half brother into excessive gambling or libertine ways. She hardly knew what she feared. But since Charles had offered for her hand, she had begun to find something rather chilling about his cool, supercilious manner. How fortunate her uncle had not announced his decision to make her his heir until her twenty-first birthday, when her father was no longer able to force her into a marriage. Although being of age was not necessarily a protection if a young woman had no relative like her uncle to support her decision.

  “Should we not send Jane out of town for a time?” Rupert asked. The rebuke had not affected his appetite. He spread mustard lavishly on a slab of ham.

  “We can hardly do so without creating more suspicion,” her father said. “De Veil would have to be consulted, and I am sure he would forbid it.”

  “Besides, how could we do without her? I cannot cope with all the household’s problems without her help,” Stepmama said.

  Jane found herse
lf suddenly out of patience and made up an errand to get out of the house. She hoped no one would stare at her or give her the cut direct, but it could not be worse than her father’s irritability and her stepmother’s worry over the family’s reputation. And Rupert, for all his joking, was on edge again. Perhaps his friends were saying things. Or perhaps he really thought she was guilty.

  That was an unpleasant thought, so she banished it from her mind as she tied a bergère hat over her round-eared cap and went out for a bracing walk.

  Chapter 5

  A young woman, her opportunities for marriage passing, impatient of life in her father’s house, knowing herself to be an heiress, if only the testator were dead, was certainly the most likely suspect in such a poisoning as Markham’s. Nine times in ten, Alex thought, the suspicion would be correct. If not for her uncle’s letter, Mistress Jane would be lodged in prison, awaiting trial, verdict, and execution. He wished he could have been present at the inquest, but he could not risk being seen there. However, he had read the verbatim account of the inquest provided by de Veil.

  The delivery of the potted shrimps should never have been mentioned. That officious fool of a coroner, swollen with his own importance, had permitted too much testimony, when all the law required was identification of the dead man, and time, place, and cause of death. But there had been no opportunity to make sure only the bare facts came out. Now Jane Stowe would be under suspicion until the real murderer was caught. With luck, his trial would be so much talked of, everyone who mattered would know she had been innocent. Unless, of course, his identity must be suppressed for reasons of state.

  His double tap at the kitchen door brought a quick response.

  “Would you need any little chore done or anything mended, young miss? There’s not much I can’t do or repair. I’m new come to town, and I thought, in a neighborhood like this, there’s bound to be more than enough for the servants to do. I work cheap, too, if the cook will give me a bit of whatever she can spare, and a mug of ale.”

  The kitchen maid stood gaping at him, while he noted that her eyes were reddened and puffy.

 

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