by Deryn Lake
Punctually at eight o’clock, John heard the sound of a chaise draw up in the inn yard and a coachman jump down from his box to open the door. Certain that it was his visitor, the Apothecary was just about to leave the snug and escort her inside when raised voices caught his attention.
‘Miss Hodkin!’ said one of them. ‘What are you doing here?’
A more redoubtable dame might have told the speaker to mind his business but Hesther, victim of so many years of subservience, muttered something inaudible, the very tone of which told John that she was thoroughly nonplussed. Distressed that the poor woman should be browbeaten yet again, the Apothecary went to her rescue at speed.
Much as he had expected, she had been accosted by Valentine Randolph and his associate, both of whom stood talking to her beneath the light of a lamp which swung from the stable wall. Crossing the cobbles, John went to join them, making the trio an elegant bow.
‘Ah, Miss Hodkin,’ he said, bestowing a courteous smile on the two gentlemen, ‘I am so glad you could keep our appointment. Pray step inside. A good fire awaits you.’
Mr Randolph’s companion gave John a steely glance. ‘I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure …’ he began.
‘The name’s Rawlings,’ the Apothecary answered, his smile even more pleasant, ‘come to call on Sir William Hartfield’s family on behalf of Mr Fielding, the Principal Magistrate.’
The other’s jaw sagged violently. ‘What did you say?’
‘I’m here on Mr Fielding’s business. Now, Miss Hodkin, pray step within. We have much to discuss I believe.’
‘I insist on accompanying the lady,’ said the speaker.
‘You may insist until the moon turns green,’ John answered, and offered Hesther his arm.
‘Oh please, Luke,’ she murmured, red with embarrassment, ‘don’t make a fuss. I have met this gentleman before.’
‘But you have no chaperone.’
‘Mr Challon,’ said John icily, taking Sir William’s secretary completely by surprise at the use of his surname, ‘if you do not let this lady pass you will leave me no alternative but to presume that you are deliberately trying to impede the course of justice.’
‘Before you get so damned high-handed,’ Luke answered, jutting out his chin, ‘let’s see your authorisation. You don’t look like a Runner to me.’
‘Certainly,’ the Apothecary answered promptly, and drew John Fielding’s letter from an inside pocket.
Luke Challon raised it to the light and scanned the contents, then passed it to Valentine Randolph, who read the document in silence. They looked at one another, then the secretary cleared his throat.
‘So Roger wasn’t exaggerating. Sir William really was murdered.’
‘I fear so.’
‘But who could have done such a thing? He was a highly respected man.’
Valentine interrupted, his words coming a shade too rapidly. ‘He was obviously set upon by a cutpurse. He fell victim to a common thief, that’s the truth of it.’
‘Convenient though that answer would be,’ John stated harshly ‘I’m afraid it is not the case. Valuables were found on Sir William’s body, valuables that no footpad worth the name would have left behind him.’
‘Then it must have been because of Amelia,’ Luke said, almost to himself, then obviously regretted the words and looked horribly uncomfortable.
Hesther came to the rescue. ‘I’m getting somewhat chilled,’ she remarked in an apologetic voice. ‘May we go inside?’
‘Certainly,’ said John. He turned to the two men. ‘Gentlemen, I shall call on you both at Kirby Hall tomorrow morning. Much as I dislike having to pry into the private lives of others, I fear it is a necessary evil if a killer is to be brought to book. I trust I will have your cooperation.’
‘I know very little,’ Valentine Randolph answered, again in the same over-quick manner, ‘but naturally I will be of what assistance I can. As to seeing me tomorrow, I am staying here, at the inn, so we may as well get the wretched business over tonight, after Miss Hodkin has gone.’
Luke sighed deeply. ‘As Sir William’s secretary I was privy to his affairs but have a natural abhorrence about discussing them. Yet I suppose in the circumstances I must do so. I shall see you in the morning, Mr Rawlings.’ He turned to the office manager. ‘I shall tell Lady Hodkin that you will visit her tomorrow to express your sympathy.’
‘She may not see you,’ put in Hesther unexpectedly. ‘She’s not had a good word for Mr Randolph since the wedding.’
‘The wedding!’ Valentine repeated bitterly. ‘I wonder how different things might have been if it had actually taken place.’
Luke gave him a warning look. ‘Useless conjecture will get us no further.’ He addressed Miss Hodkin. ‘I shall await your safe return.’
John grinned to himself in the darkness. ‘I promise that no harm will come to Miss Hesther in my charge.’
‘Oh tush,’ she said with an unanticipated show of spirit, and without addressing any of the gentlemen further, led the way indoors.
She was not, John thought, regarding his guest in the mellow glow of candlelight, altogether ugly. In fact, with the skilful use of cosmetic preparations, she could be reasonably comely. It was merely the fact that poor, pathetic Hesther had allowed herself to become so horribly drab, and all in the service of an odious old lady who did not deserve her daughter’s unfailing devotion. Only wishing that he could do something to help her, John spoke gently but directly.
‘I know it may not be easy for you to talk of the past, Miss Hodkin, but, believe me, it will be more than helpful if you do. As you know, I am not a Beak Runner by profession but an apothecary, yet on the occasions when I have been called upon to assist Mr Fielding, it has been my experience that the key to present circumstances nearly always lies in what has gone before.’
She gave a small cough but did not reply.
‘Therefore, I would like to ask you some questions about things that happened many years ago. Do I have your permission?’
Hesther looked at him meekly. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘But first let me offer you a glass of port. I really can recommend it as very soothing to the throat and chest. It will ease that cough of yours.’
‘I hardly ever drink.’
‘Not even for medicinal purposes?’
‘Oh, very well then.’
Pouring her a generous measure, John replenished his own glass. ‘Now, Miss Hodkin, I wonder if you would tell me in what circumstances you first met Sir William Hartfield. Is it true that you and your sister were little more than girls at the time?’
Hesther looked slightly discomfited. ‘How did you know that?’
John tapped the side of his nose in the style of Joe Jago, Mr Fielding’s clerk. ‘The Public Office has its methods,’ he answered mysteriously.
‘Oh! Well, yes, it is a fact that I was twenty and Harriet eighteen, when we first encountered him.’
‘And how did you meet?’
‘William came to work in our father’s office. The Hodkins are a Bristol family and have always been in shipping. As my father was only a middle son, he went to London to strike out on his own, and did very well for himself. In fact he became an alderman and was knighted.’
‘How commendable. And William?’
‘He had been at sea but decided that he would have a brighter future on dry land. My father took him on as an assistant. That is how my sister got to know him.’
‘And so they were happily married.’
‘Ye-es,’ said Hesther, with the slightest note of hesitation.
‘You sound a little doubtful. Why?’
‘My mother opposed the match. She did not care for William, you see.’
‘Indeed?’
Hesther downed her port in a noisy gulp. ‘She said he had no breeding. When she enquired who his people were, she discovered that he was merely the son of a Shadwell rope-maker. He was also without money, owning only what he earned himself. In the e
nd, he and Harriet ran away and were married secretly. I helped them and she never forgave me for it.’
John quietly refilled Miss Hodkin’s glass. ‘You obviously approved of him then?’
Hesther looked at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. ‘I was very fond of him, yes,’ she said softly.
‘Were you, perhaps, a little in love with him?’ the Apothecary asked.
She glared at him, hovering between anger and the desperate need to confide. John smiled at her encouragingly.
‘If I read your glance correctly, Miss Hodkin, you despise me for my forward manner. But please believe that my only concern is to find Sir William’s killer. However, there is no need for you to reply to any of my questions if you find them too personal.’
Hesther nodded. ‘Then let us leave my feelings out of the matter.’
‘Very well. I will pass on to something else. From information I have received already. I believe that some years ago your sister suffered a stroke which left her an invalid. Shortly after this, so I am told, your brother-in-law took a mistress, a certain Miss Lambourn, whom he recently intended to marry. Is this correct?’
Miss Hodkin nodded, this time quite fiercely, but said nothing.
‘I see. Ah well, passion plays odd tricks with people I suppose.’
She snorted. ‘Lust, you mean. He craved that avaricious strumpet, strained after her like some ghastly old goat.’
‘I take it you did not like Miss Lambourn,’ John commented trimly.
‘I loathed her,’ Hesther answered, tears pouring down her unrouged cheeks.
‘A very strong reaction for a sister-in-law.’
She threw her head back with rare defiance. ‘All the family felt the same.’
‘I think perhaps you more than any of them,’ John said very gently.
‘I told you I was fond of William.’
‘Very fond, I believe. Come, Miss Hodkin, you have nothing to fear from me. Did your fondness grow into love?’
‘Yes,’ she hissed, suddenly losing control, ‘yes, you inquisitive and wretched creature, of course it did. Now are you satisfied?’
‘Sir William hurt you very much, didn’t he?’ John answered soothingly.
Hesther burst into violent sobs. ‘He wounded me beyond belief. When my poor sister died I honestly thought he might come to me at last. Only to discover that he had been keeping that whore, that slattern, that foul little bitch all along.’
‘So your love turned to hatred,’ said John softly.
She shook with emotion, but must have realised down what a dangerous path her words were leading her.
‘No, no, never that. However badly William treated me, I had to accept the fact that he did not realise how cruel he was being. To him I was just Harriet’s sister, the relative he had always known and been fond 0£ Believe me, I could never hate him. I cared for him too deeply.’
‘Yet Sir William was obviously capable of stirring strong emotions in others. Did he have many enemies that you know of?’
Hesther pulled the strangest face. ‘He fell out with his children from time to time, as all fathers do. He considered some of them too frivolous, others too grasping. But these were mere family tiffs. No, if you are seeking his killer, I suggest that you look no further than Miss Amelia Lambourn herself.’
‘But why should she wish to murder her future husband?’
‘Because he has left her all his money.’
‘Do you know this for a fact?’
Hesther tossed her head, the first truly feminine gesture that John had ever seen her make. ‘No, of course I don’t. But it stands to reason.’
‘Not necessarily.’
Aware that she was making something of a fool of herself, Hesther rapidly became stiff and formal. ‘Is there anything else that you wish to know?’ she asked in a clipped voice.
‘Yes, just one small point. When did you last see Sir William alive?’
‘About five days before he was due to be married. The ceremony was supposed to be secret but my mother suspected it was imminent and frightened Luke Challon into telling her the time and place. Anyway, a few days previously William came to Kirby Hall to supervise the redecoration of some of the rooms. Obviously it was being done for her. I suppose he intended to bring his bride home after they were wed. Can you imagine a more terrible situation?’
John attempted to picture Lady Hodkin dwelling beneath the same roof as her son-in-law’s pretty young wife, and failed miserably. He shook his head.
‘No, I can’t. But that aside, how was Sir William on that occasion? Did he seem worried at all?’
‘Not in the least. On the contrary, he was cheerful to a degree.’
‘I see.’ The Apothecary changed tack. ‘How are you feeling now, Miss Hodkin? Is there anything I can get you? I have one or two medicaments up in my room.’
She shook her head. ‘I am quite recovered, thank you, though somewhat ashamed that I broke down as I did. However, if you have no further questions I would prefer to take my leave. Events have become somewhat overwhelming and I would welcome a night’s sleep.’
John got to his feet. ‘Of course. Allow me to escort you to your carriage. If I think of anything else I can always ask you tomorrow.’
Hesther finished her third glass of port and stood up. ‘What I said tonight will remain confidential, will it not?’
‘If you mean am I going to tell your family, the answer is definitely no.’
She smiled at him tearfully and just for a second a look of enormous charm peeped out. ‘Thank you for that. My mother was quite wrong about you, you know.’
‘I would imagine,’ said John, with feeling, ‘that your mother can be wrong about a great many things.’
It was cold outside the inn, the moon almost full, riding high in a sable sky brimful with galaxies of glittering stars. Looking upwards, John momentarily lost track of his surroundings and leapt with fright when a voice spoke to him out of the shadows.
‘Mr Rawlings?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you ready to speak to me now?’
‘Is that you, Mr Randolph?’
‘It is.’
‘Then let us go inside and make the most of what is left of the fire. To say nothing of the remains of a fine bottle of port.’
‘You don’t seem like the usual type of Beak Runner,’ Valentine commented as they stepped within.
‘I only work for Mr Fielding on an ad hoc basis. I am an apothecary by profession.’
‘How strange,’ came the reply. But John did not elucidate further until they were comfortably settled in the snug, listening to the noise of the inn as both the building and its occupants settled down for the night. Then he spoke.
‘Believe me, as I’ve already told you, I don’t enjoy asking people intimate questions about their private lives.’
‘Then why do it?’
‘Because I love the search for the truth, the pitting of wits against those of a cunning killer. Further, Mr Fielding has asked me to help him with this case because I was the one who discovered Sir William’s body.’
‘And you consider that in the answers you are given lie the shreds of the solution to his murder.’
‘Most certainly.’
‘Then ask away. I was fond of my employer, in fact I owe him a debt of gratitude. I won’t shirk from anything that will help track down his slayer.’
Valentine Randolph stretched his legs to the fire and John did likewise. ‘Tell me, how long have you known him?’
‘Fifteen years, since I was twenty, in fact. He rescued me from my own determined efforts to turn myself into a drunken sot by offering me employment in his office.’ Valentine laughed softly. ‘I considered myself dying of a broken heart, you see.’
‘Why was that?’
‘I was very much in love with a cousin of mine, a Jane Randolph. She was born and baptised in the same year as myself, 1720, but her father, a sea captain educated in the colony of Virginia, returned th
ere before I was able to declare my passion.’
‘What was he doing in London?’
‘He had come over here to find a second wife after the death of his first. He was active in the slave trade and very prosperous.’
‘What happened?’
‘Jane married another colonist, Peter Jefferson, when she was nineteen. As a result, I decided on a life of debauchery until Sir William got hold of me, that is. Jane is now a mother, by the way – her son is called Thomas. I have remained a bachelor.’
John nodded. ‘I see. Now, Mr Randolph, tell me what you know of Sir William’s early life.’
It was strange to hear the same story that Hesther had told, this time from a different focus. The facts were identical, only the interpretation of them different. It seemed that Valentine had a similar view to Julian Hartfield. Sir William, with an invalid wife and no one to love him, had been perfectly justified in finding himself a mistress.
‘And exactly where did he find her?’ John asked curiously.
‘At New Tunbridge Wells, I believe.’
‘Do you mean Islington Spa?’
‘Yes, the same.’
‘All the London pleasure gardens are well known as meeting places, of course.’
‘Yes, but she wasn’t there as a visitor, Amelia Lambourn actually worked at the Spa.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Serving water from the Well.’
‘Good God! So she had no pretensions at all to being bon ton.’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘Then small wonder Lady Hodkin objected so violently to the match.’
‘She considered the whole situation a slur on the family honour. I think she would have gone to any lengths to stop Sir William marrying the wretched girl.’
‘So where did you stand in all this? You were going to act as bridegroom’s witness, were you not?’
Valentine Randolph looked thoroughly startled. ‘How do you know that?’