Stone shook his head. ‘Are you saying that Simon sold me a fake knowingly?’
Child was stirring the pottery shards of a broken lamp with his foot. It had been decorated with orgiastic scenes like the urn in Simon’s workshop. He recalled Simon saying that Stone paid extra for such pieces. Picking up the broken base of the lamp, Child ran his thumb around the edge, feeling a line of glue. He showed it to Stone.
‘I’m guessing the base was from an older piece, with a newly fired top – painted by Simon. He turned a genuine piece bought for shillings into something much more valuable that would suit your tastes.’
A large wad of paper was wedged into the lamp’s base, presumably to balance it on one side. Child pulled it out and smoothed the papers on Stone’s table. Lottery tickets, dated 1781.
‘My guess is pretty much everything in your collection is a fake of one kind or another. Broken statues joined together, as he was doing in his yard when Mrs Corsham and I spoke to him for the first time. Pinchbeck jewellery. Counterfeit coins. I should have guessed when I saw the barrel of nails in his workshop. It’s an old trick with fraudulent coins, as Mr Stone knows. Simon was uncomfortable with us just being there, but I put that down to the murders. Here is Lucy’s proof. It’s all around us.’
Stone stared at the lottery tickets in dismay. ‘But my collection is worth over fifty thousand pounds.’
‘I’d guess a good proportion of that has gone into Simon’s pocket. You thought you were bleeding him dry, buying pieces from him on the cheap, because he owed you money he couldn’t repay. But in truth, he wasn’t your creature, you were his. I imagine he was squirrelling the money away in secret, ready for the day when he’d come into a mystery inheritance and settle his debts. Tell me, do you have a new house in Wiltshire? Farthingale Manor?’
Stone shook his head.
‘Simon said you did. I even considered the possibility that you were keeping Theresa Agnetti there. But I think the manor was bought by him, intended for a different lady entirely: Julia Ward. He said she was willing to elope with him, if he improved his finances.’
‘But I have studied antiquity,’ Stone said plaintively, casting his gaze around the gallery. ‘It cannot be true.’
‘I only guessed when I discovered that Pamela was Jewish,’ Child went on. ‘Her necklace was the key to it all. Pamela told a friend that her father had given it to her mother. I imagine he was poor, and abandoned her mother when she fell pregnant. But Solomon Loredo, himself a Jew, told me that the necklace was Indian in origin. I had to ask myself why he would lie.’
Solomon Loredo – who had taken enormous pains to emphasize Simon’s honesty at every turn. He had concealed from Child the story about Ansell Ward and the figurines, presumably because the fabricated theft hit rather too close to the mark for his liking.
‘I think Solomon Loredo made that ring, Stone’s so-called original. And probably most of the other jewellery here too. Like Simon, Loredo had once owed money to Stone. He described it to me as the worst time in his life. This was their revenge. Loredo told me that Simon had been to his house by St Mary-le-Bow on Cheapside. They probably plotted the whole enterprise there. I think that’s where Pamela met him for the first time.’
Child had thought it all through in the carriage. ‘Pamela was raised in a Jewish orphanage, I imagine. Like their Christian counterparts, they train their female charges for service. Loredo told me he’d struggled to keep a maidservant as they kept getting their heads turned by prostitution.’ Even good Jewish girls are tempted. ‘I think Pamela was one of his housemaids. We know she used to listen at doors. She must have recognized Simon, done a little research, and worked out that Stone was the man they were swindling. Perhaps she tried to blackmail Simon. We know she entertained dreams of marrying the lieutenant, and he had debts. Or maybe she threatened to tell Stone, because she was angry about Ambrose Craven and his syphilis. Either way, Simon couldn’t take the risk of Stone finding out, and so he killed her.’
‘That poor child,’ Mrs Corsham said. ‘Embroiled in all these deceptions of men. She deserved better from her life. And, God knows, from her death.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
THEY CONVENED IN Stone’s palatial dining room, overlooked by a giant Agnetti canvas of the wooden horse being rolled into Troy. Caro sat next to Mr Child, opposite the magistrate and Cavill-Lawrence. Jonathan Stone was not invited to this part of the meeting.
‘It is hard to believe,’ Caro said. ‘Simon Dodd-Bellingham being so bold as to murder Lucy in the bower. To attack me at Carlisle House. To pay a woman to steal my son. To kill poor Hector.’
‘I know,’ Child said. ‘I wanted to ask him about it all.’ He glared at Cavill-Lawrence, who looked entirely unrepentant.
‘I suppose desperation can drive a man to great lengths,’ Caro said. ‘Simon could have been hanged for his crimes, so he killed to protect himself. He must have worked out that Lucy was on to him, and decided to silence her.’
‘I keep wondering if Kitty told him,’ Child said. ‘I wanted to ask him about that too.’
‘Well, Simon has faced the ultimate justice now,’ Cavill-Lawrence said. ‘Can we agree that this matter is now at an end?’
Caro frowned. ‘Jonathan Stone concealed a murder. As did the lieutenant and Lord March.’
‘Do you really want this to go to court?’ Cavill-Lawrence raised his startling eyebrows. ‘All that family laundry aired? Ambrose, illegal loans. Stone will drag everyone into this, I promise you that.’
Caro was silent a moment. She didn’t want Prinny mired in scandal, especially if it would unleash the King’s wrath on the Craven Bank. Her brother prosecuted, Louisa and her children in the poorhouse.
‘I don’t want Stone to walk away from this unscathed.’
‘Oh, Stone will get his desserts eventually, I promise you that.’ Cavill-Lawrence spoke with cold dispassion, but she knew he was thinking about his Prince.
‘Those rumours about Lieutenant Dodd-Bellingham,’ she said. ‘The Somerset allegations, the massacre at Van der Linden’s Mill. They’re true. I want them properly investigated.’
Cavill-Lawrence grunted. ‘Of course they’re true. The War Office looked into it. Their inquiry supported Somerset’s account in every respect.’
‘Then why is the lieutenant to be awarded the Order of the Bath?’
The answer came to her in the ensuing silence. Because the King likes to recount the story. Because they are keeping all bad news from him. They worry that the smallest disappointment might prompt his abdication. Expose his brave English lion as a killer and a coward and it might be enough.
‘Well,’ Cavill-Lawrence said. ‘Are we agreed?’
‘I don’t want Solomon Loredo punished,’ Child said. ‘He was only trying to take revenge on Stone. I don’t think he knew for certain that Simon had killed Pamela. He was simply afraid that their forgeries would be discovered.’
‘We can hardly try Loredo without all the rest of this coming out,’ Cavill-Lawrence said.
‘I’m more worried about Stone seeking revenge. Not just on Loredo. On me. On my friends.’ On Sophie.
‘I will make it plain to Mr Stone that there is to be no retribution,’ Cavill-Lawrence said. ‘Under the circumstances, it is a small enough price for him to pay.’
Child bowed his head, then looked at Caro. ‘You are the client, madam.’
‘Very well,’ Caro said reluctantly. ‘But on one condition. I wish to ask Mr Stone a question, and I want you to compel him to answer.’
Cavill-Lawrence nodded to Sir Amos. ‘Bring him in.’
*
Jonathan Stone sat at the head of the table, unsmiling for once.
‘On the first of March,’ Caro said, ‘the day Pamela died, Theresa Agnetti called at this house to see you. You spoke to her in private. I’d like to know what you discussed.’
Stone looked a little surprised by the question. ‘She told me that she desired to leave her husband. The mar
riage was unhappy, she said, and she wished to start again, under a new name. She asked me for a loan of five hundred pounds and I agreed.’
Caro gazed at him sceptically. ‘Such a loan would be unenforceable. Any debt in Theresa’s name would have been her husband’s liability. But once she left him, he would have ceased to be legally accountable. And if she’d moved away, changed her name, then how would you find her if she reneged on the repayments?’
‘I trusted her,’ Stone replied. ‘Theresa Agnetti was my friend.’
‘Your friend,’ Caro said, her voice rich with sarcasm.
‘You don’t believe that a man and a woman can ever be friends? Mrs Agnetti is an intelligent woman, and an interesting conversationalist. I enjoyed her company much more than I ever did her husband’s. I also had some sympathy for her predicament. I am, as you know, a great believer in the freedom of women. I did not think Mrs Agnetti should be condemned to an unhappy life because of one simple mistake in her youth.’
‘Did she mention Pamela to you at all?’ Child said.
‘No. Why would she?’
‘They didn’t get on. Never mind. It was a theory we had.’
‘Did you ever hear from Mrs Agnetti again?’ Caro said.
‘Every month I receive a repayment by post. She is much happier now, or so she tells me.’
‘Can you tell us where she is?’
‘I’m afraid not. She has never said.’
Caro exchanged a rueful glance with Mr Child. All that wasted effort looking into the Agnettis. Caro wondered if she should tell Mr Agnetti that his wife was alive and well. Would it make his burden easier to bear, or harder?
Stone looked around the table. ‘Will that be all?’
Gazing at the man who had ruined her reputation, who would leave her son without a mother, Caro’s voice tightened. ‘Your philosophy is a fraud, sir. Women’s freedom, equality in pleasure. Would those women come to your masquerades and submit to the whims of you and your friends, if they were rich?’
‘Perhaps,’ Stone said. ‘I assure you they enjoy themselves, Mrs Corsham.’
‘Do they?’ Caro said. ‘Or do they simply have their own line in fakery? From what I have witnessed, Mr Stone, you’re a credulous man.’
*
Outside, by the magistrate’s carriage, Caro smiled at Mr Child. ‘Will you return to the house with me? We need to discuss the settlement of your account.’
‘I’m surprised there’s anything to discuss. I betrayed you, madam.’
‘You were in a bind,’ Caro said. ‘And you only hastened this scandal along. I think it would have come to this anyway. Captain Corsham’s pride would have stood in the way of any solution. So please, Mr Child, I insist.’
He inclined his head. ‘Can it wait until tomorrow?’
‘You are very eager to refuse my money, sir.’
‘I thought I’d look for Kitty’s body. Someone also needs to tell Humphrey Sillerton that his wife is dead.’
The girl’s suicide had affected him badly, she could tell.
His brow furrowed.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Just something that’s been troubling me these last few days. Something Kitty said when we saw her at the church. Something that doesn’t quite add up. But I cannot think what it is.’ He shook his head. ‘It will come to me.’
Cavill-Lawrence was waiting impatiently in the carriage. Caro took her leave of Mr Child, and a footman assisted her into the vehicle. Sir Amos was on the steps of Stone’s house, talking to one of his Runners. Two more of them were carrying the corpse of Simon Dodd-Bellingham from the house.
‘I believe you have something for me?’ Cavill-Lawrence said.
Reaching into her panniers, Caro handed him Kitty’s letter. As he went to put it away in his frock coat, she laid a hand on his arm.
‘Stop keeping things from His Majesty,’ she said. ‘Stop protecting him from bad news. Remind him of his obligations, of his duty. Before you destroy that letter, you should give it to him to read. Tell him that his son needs time to grow up.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
AFTER THAT, THERE was nothing left to do except to go home.
Caro sat for hours that afternoon, playing with Gabriel in the drawing room, making battalions of lead soldiers and forts from cushions. He picked one up to show her: ‘Papa.’
She smiled at him. ‘He’ll be home soon.’
But not too soon, she hoped, hugging him tight. She wondered if they’d take the other child from her too, the one growing in her womb, and decided they probably would. She blinked back tears.
It might not be for ever, she thought. Ladies had returned from disgrace before, after a few years, when hearts had softened and scandal died. There was Lady Sarah Bunbury, who’d fallen pregnant by her lover, and was exiled for years to a country cottage. Now, occasionally, Lady Sarah could be seen out on the town with her new husband.
Perhaps one day they’ll let me see Gabriel again. Or perhaps he’ll seek me out, when he’s fully grown.
Or perhaps he’ll hate me.
‘Mama, can we catch the mouse again?’
‘Of course we can,’ she said, rising, taking his hand. ‘We can lay traps!’
*
Later, when Gabriel was in bed, she sat in the drawing room, off her food again, trying to read Aeschylus and failing. London society would be out in force tonight, for the Prince’s visit to Vauxhall Gardens. Her enemies would be delighting in her fall. They would be talking about her now, stories breeding stories. Soon every man she’d ever spoken to would be cited as one of her lovers.
Tears pricked her eyes. She knelt to tidy away the lead soldiers. They reminded her of Ansell Ward: A la bataille!
Whatever they do to me next, she thought, Caroline Corsham does not hide herself away. She called for Pomfret. ‘Have the carriage made ready, please.’
He gazed at her, concerned. ‘Where are you going, madam?’
‘To Vauxhall Gardens.’
*
Caro wore the burgundy satin and matching feathers. Let them stare, she thought. Yet as she walked through the gates of the gardens, and the faces turned towards her, her courage almost failed her. But she kept walking, preceded by Miles, her chin aloft, as if oblivious to the laughter.
On the Grand Walk, she encountered the Henekers, strolling together under the stars. She embraced Lottie warmly, pretending not to notice the other woman’s stiffness in her arms. ‘I am so glad to run into you,’ Caro said. ‘I have the most astonishing story to tell you about Lieutenant Dodd-Bellingham.’
‘That his brother is dead?’ Lottie said. ‘A thief? A murderer? We heard.’
Her excited tone suggested that the beau monde would not mourn these facts. Simon, after all, was never really one of them.
‘This is something else,’ Caro said. ‘I guarantee you’ll like it.’
Despite all Lottie’s natural instinct to eschew her company, it was enough to make her twitch. ‘You must say more.’
Caro threaded an arm through hers, smiling brightly at Lottie’s husband. ‘Let me tell you on the way to the Rotunda.’
*
Once in the Rotunda, the Henekers swiftly and strategically abandoned her. The beau monde had arranged themselves in concentric circles of influence around Prinny, the sun at their centre, in a bright yellow frock coat weighed down by badges and medallions. Lord March was by his side, with Clemency Howard on his arm. He offered Caro a hesitant smile, which she didn’t return. Prinny followed his gaze, and when he saw Caro, he scowled. She wondered if he knew about Kitty’s confession – if Cavill-Lawrence had taken her advice and shown it to his father. I’ve made an enemy there, she thought.
All around, she could hear her name repeated in whispers. Like a firing squad, she thought. Only I get to see their faces. To see who it delights, who it saddens, and who is afraid they might be next.
Lieutenant Dodd-Bellingham wore a black armband and looked a little subdued, su
rrounded by solicitous heiresses. Caro walked directly up to him, breaking every rule regarding propriety. The heiresses looked at her in outrage.
‘Van der Linden’s Mill,’ she murmured in the lieutenant’s ear. ‘We never got to finish our conversation.’
He stepped away from the heiresses a pace or two. ‘Haven’t you heard? I am to be promoted to lieutenant colonel. The King’s confirmed the Order of the Bath. They’ll not touch me now, whatever evidence you think you can find.’
Caro looked up at his arrogant face, his cut lip, his duelling scar. ‘You may wear your grand cross star,’ she said. ‘Bathe in the gentlemen’s adulation. But the women will know.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Van der Linden’s Mill. I told Lottie Heneker the truth.’ She looked across the Rotunda, where Lottie was whispering excitedly in the Duchess of Shropshire’s ear. ‘Every woman who hears that story will believe it – not least because we’ve always found it a struggle to believe in your heroism in the first place. Your heiresses will doubtless hear it too. You’ll probably convince one of them to marry you, regardless, but she will wake up next to you every morning, and remember that her husband is a coward.’
Scowling, he turned his back on her, sparking a fresh round of murmurs. All around her, people did the same. Adrift on a tide of outrage, abandoned by people she’d known and liked, her eyes pricked as she pushed her way through to the door.
One lone figure blocked her path. Jacobus Agnetti. She waited for him to turn away too, but he bowed, kissing her hand.
Gratefully, she returned his smile. ‘To have the Prince here is a great coup,’ she said. ‘You must be very proud.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘His Highness does not look at the paintings. And the crowds only look at him. Miss Willoughby hopes he will commission a portrait. We shall see.’ His expression grew more sombre. ‘I heard about Simon Dodd-Bellingham. I can hardly believe it.’
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