Death at the Devil's Tavern

by Deryn Lake

  John smiled enigmatically. ‘The Public Office prides itself on being well informed.’

  ‘Incredibly so. No, as I have already told you, I believed that my employer was entitled to some happiness at last. Lady Hartfield’s illness had been a long and painful one, in fact it had affected every member of the family in different ways. I felt as none of them dare oppose Lady Hodkin and stand up for Sir William at the ceremony, then I would do so.’

  ‘But the marriage never took place.’

  ‘No, he did not come. Somebody made sure of that.’

  ‘Yes,’ said John thoughtfully. ‘You know, it will be interesting to see exactly how Sir William’s estate has been disposed.’

  Valentine nodded. ‘I presume the will will be read after the funeral.’

  ‘Do you know the name of your employer’s lawyer by any chance?’

  ‘He used two, one for business, the other for personal matters. I only dealt with the commercial man. Luke will be able to furnish the details of the second.’

  ‘I shall ask him tomorrow morning when I return to Kirby Hall. You know, Mr Randolph, I feel that the contents of Sir William’s last testament will tell us a great deal about why he had to die.’

  ‘You mean that following his marriage the bulk of his fortune was going to be left to Amelia and that somebody was desperate to prevent that happening?’

  ‘That is one possibility. The other, of course, is that she is already his heiress.’

  ‘Then that would mean …’

  ‘Yes. I think it is essential that I speak to Miss Lambourn without any further delay.’

  ‘Only Luke knows where she lives, officially that is.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That I am fairly certain others knew of her whereabouts.’

  ‘What others?’ John asked curiously.

  But Valentine Randolph refused to be drawn further and took to staring into the dying embers of the fire without saying another word.

  Chapter Nine

  It was still very early in the morning, but despite that the servants were up, preparing the mansion for the day. Granted admittance by a yawning footman, not the man he had seen previously, John was once more shown into the small anteroom to await the arrival of Luke Challon, who was presently at his breakfast. In this way, with not even a newspaper to amuse him, the Apothecary found himself listening to every sound and was intrigued when the muffled knocker was banged and the front door opened once more. There was a murmured conversation, followed by the sound of a man’s footsteps echoing on the floor of the great hall. Then came the noise of running feet as somebody hurried down the grand staircase to greet the newcomer. John strained his ears.

  The couple were speaking very softly but it was still possible to make out that they were a man and a woman. Convinced that they were Julian and Juliette, the Apothecary moved stealthily to the door.

  ‘… anybody see you?’ asked the female.

  ‘No one of any …’ The male voice dropped infuriatingly.

  ‘Then you’re safe,’ the woman said clearly.

  ‘On the contrary …’ The speaker started to whisper. ‘… gone terribly wrong.’

  The female let out a little shriek. ‘You don’t mean …?’

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, quite forcibly yet with a break in his voice. ‘I’m afraid I do.’

  Longing to peer out but terrified of revealing himself, John slid his eye to the crack, but the couple were already climbing the stairs and had gone out of sight. Positive that it had been the twins who conversed, the Apothecary sat down again, puzzling over what they could possibly have been talking about. It was then, with John lost in thought, that the door opened and Luke Challon, still chewing, came furtively into the room, his whole manner uneasy, his short squarish body restless.

  John stood up. ‘Mr Challon, how nice …’

  The secretary’s finger flew to his lips, while his uncomplicated and rather boringly handsome face creased in a grimace. ‘Shush, keep your voice down for the love of God.’

  The tense atmosphere was catching and the Apothecary felt a clutch of fear. ‘Why? What’s the matter?’

  ‘Lady Hodkin has forbidden you the house. There will be hell to pay if she discovers you are here.’

  ‘Forbidden me the house?’ John repeated incredulously.

  ‘Yes. She swears that you menaced her yesterday. She has sent a letter of complaint about you to John Fielding, complete with a rider to transport it. Furthermore, she says that she refuses to cooperate in this investigation unless someone is sent to see her who is of her own social standing.’

  ‘The evil old beast!’

  Luke looked fraught. ‘Mr Rawlings, please take my advice and go. Now!’

  But there is certain information I simply have to have.’

  ‘I am aware of that. Look, I am journeying to London, to the St James’s Square house, later today. Could I not call on you somewhere?’

  John fished in an inner pocket. ‘Here’s my card. It has the address of my shop on it. My home is at number two, Nassau Street, Soho. Can you remember that?’

  ‘I’ll go and write it down straight away. Now, I beg of you, take your leave in good order.’

  ‘One question before I do. When is Sir William’s funeral to be held?’

  ‘The body is coming here today to lie in state during tonight and tomorrow. He will be buried the day afterwards.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘St Matthew’s, Bethnal Green.’

  ‘I shall be there.’

  ‘But what about Lady Hodkin?’

  ‘Even she cannot stop me taking my place in a church open to all.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘And Amelia Lambourn, do you know where she lives?’

  ‘Twelve, Queens Square, just across the park from St James’s Square.’

  ‘How very convenient.’

  Luke Challon smiled wryly, his grey eyes suddenly unreadable. ‘Oh yes it was. Very!’ he said.

  John rode hard, stopping for nothing, and within an hour had passed through the gate leading into the City. Then having gone down Fleet Street to The Strand, John turned up The Hay Market and thence into Shug Lane, wondering whether he would surprise a riot of customers upset by his absence. But from the outside, at least, all was calm, and noticing how very clean the windows looked, the Apothecary pushed open the door, setting the bell in motion, and stepped within.

  It was not only the windows which were sparkling. Shelves had been scrubbed, bottles washed, pestles polished and mortars cleaned out. The entire shop had been spring cleaned in the Apothecary’s absence and now gleamed like a prism. Very much impressed, he took a step forward, only to hear a stirring in the back room. Then with a grand gesture a figure stepped forth, a figure wearing a towering wig and enclosed in John’s long apron, a figure which solemnly took its place behind the counter. The Apothecary’s eyes widened, as did his smile. He was staring straight at Sir Gabriel Kent.

  ‘So,’ said John, erupting into laughter, ‘this is what you get up to when my back is turned, is it?’

  ‘You’re not to be angry, Sir,’ put in Nicholas, appearing from behind his mentor. ‘It was only right and proper that someone should supervise me.’

  ‘Actually,’ Sir Gabriel answered loftily, ‘I found that I rather enjoyed being here. There is no question of anyone watching over you, my lad. I came to the shop because it amused me to do so.’

  ‘Well, you seem to have made a very good job of it between you,’ said John, looking round.

  ‘That’s my training at sea, Sir,’ Nicholas explained. ‘We had to keep things neat in such a confined space.’

  John caught Sir Gabriel’s eye. ‘And has trade been good?’

  ‘Excellent. What Nicholas lost in being unable to prescribe physicks, he gained in the sale of perfumes.’

  ‘Which of course,’ John put in, turning to look at the young man, ‘is not part of an apothecary’s trade at all.’ Nicholas fro
wned, and John went on, ‘The selling of scents is really the job of the perfumers and nothing whatever to do with the calling I follow.’

  ‘Then why do you blend them, Sir?’

  ‘Because, ever since I was an apprentice, I have been fascinated by the perfumer’s art, the mixing of exotic ingredients to make rare and beautiful smells. Years ago and in secret, because I knew my Master would not have approved, I started to experiment with perfumes, and the creation of scents soon became my hobby. I have always enjoyed trying things out and inventing. One day I might do more of it.’

  ‘So your shop is unique in stocking such things?’

  ‘Yes, I fear it is.’

  ‘But surely there is nothing to say that you cannot make and sell perfumes if you so desire?’

  ‘I am certain the more pedantic of my colleagues would frown upon such a frivolous thing.’

  ‘Then let them,’ answered Nicholas with spirit. ‘Let the old miseries criticise and speak by the card. Think what pleasure you give, Sir. To hell with those moaning old mumble crusts.’

  ‘Now there’s a show of dash,’ said Sir Gabriel. ‘Well said, boy. That must be your Muscovy blood talking.’

  John smiled, pleased with this display of loyalty. ‘Have you paid Nicholas for the last two days?’ he asked.

  ‘So far he has received only one shilling.’

  ‘Then he shall have two more.’ And reaching inside the drawer where the cash was kept, he paid the young man his well-earned dues. ‘And now,’ he said, still smiling, ‘I would like you to run an errand for me.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Nicholas, removing his apron.

  ‘I want you to take the rest of the day off and go home to Bow Street, where I presume you are still living.’ The boy nodded. ‘In that case would you seek out Mr Fielding and tell him I will call on him tonight, after dinner. There is a great deal I have to discuss.’

  ‘I have a better plan,’ interrupted Sir Gabriel. ‘Why don’t you ask Mr and Mrs Fielding to dine with us at five o’clock. Then we can deliberate over a good meal.’

  Nicholas looked as pleased as if he were going to eat the food himself and John, regarding him closely, thought that the boy was starting to lose the terrible paleness which had so singled him out.

  ‘I think you’re in better condition,’ he said.

  ‘That’s because I’m enjoying myself,’ the lad answered cheerfully and, struggling into his sensible worsted coat, whistled his way from the shop, leaving the two others to wink at one another behind his retreating back.

  Punctually at five, just as the March evening started to darken, a carriage drew up outside number two, Nassau Street and, contrary to custom, Elizabeth Fielding stepped out first in order to assist her husband down the steps and into the house. Glimpsing the sight from one of the upper front windows, John as ever felt a moment’s sadness that such a great and powerful man as the Magistrate should be reduced to such dependency upon another. But once inside and seated in the library, the Blind Beak having tapped his way across the hall with his cane, the Apothecary felt himself yet again totally in the thrall of John Fielding’s potent personality.

  Sipping his sherry, the Magistrate rumbled a laugh as he described his interview with Roger Hartfield, who had been requested to attend the Public Office in order to state formally that the body he had seen in the mortuary had been that of his father.

  ‘What a pretty fellow he sounded, and what a pretty stinkard into the bargain. Why, the downstairs rooms were redolent with his perfume for an entire day after his departure. What does he look like, Mr Rawlings?’

  ‘A trifle fleshy but a piercing beau for all that, dressed in the very latest fashions, wildly wigged and flashingly beringed. He fainted and vomited a good deal at the ordeal of seeing the body.’

  ‘How vulgar,’ commented Sir Gabriel.

  ‘Was he genuinely upset, do you think?’ Mr Fielding asked.

  John looked thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure. It’s rather hard to say. The greater the fuss the less the emotion, I always tend to think.’

  ‘Quite. He called his father’s betrothed a horrid little whore, by the way.’

  ‘The consensus it would appear.’

  Mr Fielding nodded. ‘And what of the others? How did they react to the news of Sir William’s death?’

  ‘They all seemed saddened, in their different ways. His daughter-in-law Lydia, a somewhat daunting young widow, appeared very anxious that I should hear no family gossip yet hadn’t a good word for Amelia Lambourn when I finally drew her out. On the other hand his two youngest children, a delightful pair of twins, disagreed on that point. The boy felt his father could not be blamed, the girl considered the bride a money grubbing harlot. By the way, there is one other odd thing.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘I overheard rather a strange piece of conversation.’ And John recounted the words he had heard while he had been concealed in the ante room.

  ‘I wonder, I wonder …’ said the Magistrate softly.

  ‘What is that, Sir?’

  ‘Whether money is the motive for this crime. When is the will to be read?’

  ‘After the funeral, which takes place the day after tomorrow. Apparently the body is being taken to Kirby Hall to lie in state.’ He paused, then went on, ‘I take it that Lady Hodkin’s letter of complaint has reached you by now?’

  The Blind Beak chuckled tunefully. ‘It certainly has. What an ostentatious vulgarian the woman sounds. She says that you menaced her. Did you?’

  ‘I most certainly did,’ John replied guilelessly.

  ‘Gracious heavens!’ exclaimed his father, raising an arched eyebrow.

  John Fielding chuckled once more. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told her that refusal to cooperate could be read as a sign of guilt. At that she created such a rumpus, her daughter rushed in to save her.’

  ‘It serves the old woman right, of course. But the situation does present certain difficulties.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Sir Gabriel.

  ‘She has to be questioned, so do all of them who reside in Kirby Hall, but she has refused Mr Rawlings admittance and states that she will not speak to anyone lest they be of her social standing.’

  ‘What arrant posturing!’

  ‘It is indeed, but it causes a problem for all that.’

  Sir Gabriel nodded. ‘It most certainly does.’

  ‘However, I am sure we will find a way round it.’ The Blind Beak turned back to John. ‘How did you find the rest of the family, my friend?’

  ‘The eldest female, Sir William’s sister-in-law, Hesther, admitted she was in love with him and seemed broken hearted and jealous that he chose to marry a flighty young flap and not herself when he was widowed. Luke Challon, the secretary, appeared anxious to be helpful and murmured that he would see me privately in London. Sir William’s office manager, Valentine Randolph, the man who would have acted as bridegroom’s witness, spoke highly of his late employer. He was of the opinion that Sir William was entitled to a little happiness. Of the other two, Hugh Hartfield and his wife, Maud, I cannot give an opinion as I did not come across them. However, the twins described them as prudish and prim and made rude remarks about their consequent lack of offspring.’

  Mr Fielding laughed again. ‘I see. So with the exception of Hugh and his lady you have spoken to everybody concerned?’

  ‘All but Miss Amelia Lambourn herself, and I intend to brave her tomorrow. By the way I was surprised to learn from Mr Randolph that Sir William met her at Islington Spa, where she served the Well water.’

  ‘A fact guaranteed to send Lady Hodkin into a frenzy, no doubt.’

  ‘Particularly if she has been left the bulk of Sir William’s fortune.’

  The Blind Beak looked thoughtful. ‘Have you discovered the name of the dead man’s solicitor?’

  ‘Luke promised to tell me when he came to see me.’

  ‘It is imperative that we find out. Someone must learn the
contents of the will, and soon at that.’

  Elizabeth Fielding spoke for the first time. ‘What a shame that you cannot send a decoy into Kirby Hall.’

  The Blind Beak turned his bandaged eyes towards her. ‘What do you mean exactly?’

  ‘That if someone could go there, someone who would be acceptable to the old woman, that is, yet someone who does not reveal himself as working for the Public Office, then a great deal might be gleaned.’

  Her husband laughed. ‘You would be ideal, my dear, but alas I cannot spare you from Bow Street.’

  Elizabeth nodded. ‘I know, I know. It was just a thought.’

  Sir Gabriel spoke into the ensuing silence. ‘I am prepared to do it if you believe I would be of any use.’

  There was absolute quiet in the room as everyone stared at him, the Magistrate bending his head just as if he could see.

  ‘But how would you gain admittance?’ he asked reflectively.

  ‘I don’t know really. I suppose I could always claim to be an old friend of Sir William’s.’

  ‘That might not work,’ Mr Fielding answered, and John realised with a shock that the Blind Beak was treating Sir Gabriel’s offer seriously.

  ‘Perhaps a coach accident could be contrived,’ he continued, still in the same thoughtful tone of voice. ‘If a wheel were to come off at Kirby Hall’s gates they would be almost duty bound to let you wait there until repairs were made.’

  ‘That’s an excellent scheme,’ John’s father answered with enthusiasm. ‘But with the funeral so near, when should I carry it out?’

  ‘You’re not in earnest …’ the Apothecary began, but Mr Fielding cut across him.

  ‘Perhaps tomorrow. With the body lying in state they are bound to give you a tearful explanation as to how the poor fellow met his end.’

  ‘And I could act in a most sympathetic manner and hope that they invite me to dine with them.’

  ‘Really!’ John protested, but he was out numbered. Sir Gabriel was warming to his theme, the Blind Beak was nodding enthusiastically, while Elizabeth had clasped her hands in pleasure, delighted that her idea had been so well received.

  ‘A toast,’ she cried, raising her glass. ‘To the Public Office’s newest representative.’