‘Ah,’ said Yeomans, eyes aglow. ‘So there’s bad blood between you and them, is there? That might explain why you attacked them.’
‘I didn’t attack anybody.’
‘Then why did Mr Oxley swear that you did? He’s a lawyer. He’d only make such a claim if it had legal force. Lawyers are known for their honesty.’
‘This one isn’t,’ said Peter. ‘He’s shifty and treacherous.’
‘Mind your language,’ warned Hale, ‘or you could be adding slander to the charge against you.’
‘There is no charge. I simply wasn’t there.’
‘Then why do the two of them claim that you were?’
‘That’s something I’d very much like to know.’
‘You’ll have to come with us,’ said Yeomans.
‘I refuse to do so.’
‘Are you resisting arrest?’
‘I’m not being taken off to Bow Street for an offence I couldn’t possibly have committed,’ said Peter, shaking Hale off. ‘Apart from my wife, there are two other witnesses – Gully Ackford and Jem Huckvale – who will swear that I’ve been in this building for the last hour or so.’
‘We’d rather trust the word of the two gentlemen,’ said Yeomans.
‘I’ll sue them for laying false information against me.’
‘They’re waiting for you in Bow Street.’
Peter folded his arms. ‘I’m not moving an inch.’
Yeomans and Hale traded an uneasy glance. They were strong men but Peter was even stronger and much younger. It might take more than two of them to overpower him. In the event, no violence was necessary. The door suddenly opened and in walked Paul. Thrilled to see his brother, he threw his arms around Peter and they hugged each other warmly. Paul then noticed the Runners.
‘What are these idiots doing here?’ he asked.
‘They’re trying to arrest me,’ said Peter. ‘I’m supposed to have assaulted two men outside the House of Commons.’
‘The charge is that you pushed them apart with extreme force,’ said Yeomans, ‘and that’s tantamount to assault.’ Paul started to laugh. ‘It’s no cause for amusement. The two gentlemen are of good standing. One is a lawyer and the other is the son of Sir Roger Mellanby.’
‘So that’s who they are,’ said Paul. ‘They obviously confused me with Peter and you’re doing the same. I was the person who brushed lightly past them outside the House of Commons.’
‘They described you as brutal and uncouth.’ Paul laughed even more. ‘It’s no joke. You’re in serious trouble.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Peter, easily. ‘It sounds to me as if this whole business can be sorted out in a couple of minutes. Come on, Paul. We’ll both go to Bow Street to face the pair of them together and clear this matter up. Unless they’re dripping with blood and covered in bruises, I don’t think there’s a case to answer.’
The brothers went cheerfully out through the door.
It was only a suggestion but somehow it seemed to work. Rather than sit there with Dorothea Glenn and listen to her describing in detail her doomed relationship with Orsino Price, Hannah wondered if her friend would care to read some of the play in which they were next to appear together. Dorothea was uncertain at first. When she realised that she would be reading the part of Isabella, the leading female character, she changed her mind at once. It was an unexpected honour for her.
‘But that’s your role, Miss Granville,’ she argued.
‘You are Isabella today,’ said Hannah, ‘and I’m sure you’ll do justice to the part. Who knows? One day you may well play it yourself.’
‘That would truly be a miracle.’
‘They do occur sometimes.’
‘Orsino was my miracle. I’ll never meet anyone like him.’
‘Let’s forget him for a moment and concentrate on Shakespeare.’
Seated beside each other, they had the play spread out before them. Hannah had turned the pages to the second scene between Isabella and Angelo, a man with absolute power during the absence of the Duke of Vienna. Isabella had come to him to plead for her brother’s release from the death sentence imposed by Angelo on him for sleeping with his betrothed before they were married.
‘Angelo is a puritan,’ said Hannah, ‘but he is strangely attracted to Isabella. As the scene develops, he has feelings for her that he is unable to control. As you know, he offers her a corrupt bargain. To save her brother’s life, she must sacrifice her virginity.’
‘It’s a terrible position to put her in.’
‘I agree, Dorothea, but it’s a wonderful role for any actress, full of emotion and soaring verse. Are you ready to tackle it?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Then let’s begin …’
Hannah deepened her voice and sharpened its edge so that she could sound like the peremptory Angelo. It took Dorothea a little longer to settle into the role. Nervous at first, she grew in confidence and improved steadily, handling the verse with great dexterity. In less than a minute, she was so committed to the play that she forgot all about her troubles. Hannah, however, was aware of the faint connection between Isabella’s plight and that of the young actress. If, as she believed, Orsino Price had been deceiving Dorothea, then the latter’s virginity, as in the case of Shakespeare’s heroine, was at the mercy of a lecherous man. There was a secondary parallel. Isabella was threatened by someone acting as a deputy to the absent Duke. Hannah was forced to remember that she, too, was being menaced by a man who’d assumed power in the absence of a ruler. No loss of virtue was involved in her case but that didn’t detract from Hannah’s discomfort when she recalled that she was, in effect, now playing the role of the Prince Regent.
For Dorothea, however, it was a totally different experience. The longer the scene went on, the more she grew into the part, and when she was confronted with the cruel ultimatum, she delivered her closing soliloquy with mingled pathos and passion. Hannah was so impressed that she clapped her hands in appreciation.
‘That was brilliant, Dorothea!’
‘Do you really think so?’ asked the other, touched by the compliment.
‘I could not have delivered that speech better myself.’
‘There’s no higher praise than that.’
‘And, yes, I know that I was hardly a convincing Angelo, but the scene is really about Isabella and, like any good actress, you made the most of it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘To be candid, I feel rather dizzy.’
‘That’s only to be expected.’
‘But I’m so grateful that you suggested reading that scene, Miss Granville. It took me into another world. I actually forgot the demons assailing me.’
‘You’ve learnt a good lesson,’ said Hannah. ‘At times of crisis, you can always turn to Shakespeare. I’ve done so myself on many occasions. He may not be able to solve our problems, but he can always take us to a place where they aren’t quite so oppressive. Remember that.’
Harry Scattergood was a strict teacher. He rehearsed Alan Kinnaird for a long time until he was convinced that his friend would be able to hold his own under questioning from the chief magistrate. As a reward, Scattergood took him into the nearby Golden Crown for a celebratory drink. Secure in their disguises as men of fashion, their behaviour enabled them to blend easily into the crowd. The two of them drifted into a quiet corner. Kinnaird winked at his friend.
‘We’d never have been able to do this in the old days, Harry.’
‘They wouldn’t have let us in through the door.’
‘We’ve moved up in society.’
‘To make your living off fine gentlemen, you have to look like one of them.’
‘Look, smell and sound.’
‘That’s right. All that practice we put in has paid off.’
‘Have you ever brought Welsh Mary here?’
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ said Scattergood with a grin. ‘I love her dearly but that accent of hers wou
ld give us away at once. Mary knows her place and that’s beside, beneath or on top of me.’
‘Does she know about our plan?’
‘It’s best to keep her in the dark about such things, Alan.’
‘What if things go wrong?’
‘They won’t.’
‘Welsh Mary will be left high and dry.’
‘Don’t even think such a thing. My plan is foolproof. Now that you’ve been properly rehearsed, we can choose our moment to strike.’
‘You’re a genius, Harry.’
‘Giles, if you please,’ corrected the other. ‘Giles Clearwater.’
‘Where on earth did you get a name like that?’
‘It was quite by chance, as it happens. I think it suits me.’
‘Well, I’m glad that I made your acquaintance,’ said Kinnaird, raising his glass. ‘I drink to you, Mr Clearwater.’
‘And I drink to our success.’
The two of them enjoyed a first sip of their wine. Scattergood was brimming with confidence. He didn’t notice the old man seated alone nearby and staring at him with great interest. Simeon Howlett’s memory was starting to function again.
The visit to Bow Street was brief. Unable to decide which of the brothers had assaulted them, Edmund Mellanby and Oxley settled on Peter. They claimed to recognise the sinister aspect in his character. Paul was highly amused, freely admitting that he had been at the House of Commons but denying that any assault had taken place. When he gave his version of what had happened, the chief magistrate concluded that no crime had occurred and chided the visitors from Nottingham for wasting his time on such meaningless trivia.
‘What were you doing there in the first place?’ demanded Oxley.
‘I was in pursuit of the man who ordered the death of Sir Roger Mellanby,’ said Paul. ‘Instead of having me hauled here, you should be thankful that someone is on the trail of the assassin.’
‘The Bow Street Runners have mounted their own investigation.’
‘It remains to be seen who achieves a satisfactory result.’
‘We don’t need you involved at all,’ said Edmund.
‘In that case,’ interjected Peter, ‘you will wait for ever before you discover who shot your father and at whose command.’
Taking their leave, the brothers walked out and left the two men fuming. On their stroll back to the shooting gallery, they caught up on each other’s news. Paul was fascinated to hear about Peter’s trip to Nottingham, and how the Mellanby family was not uniformly in favour of his commitment to solve the murder on their behalf. For his part, Peter was astonished at the amount of evidence that Paul had already assembled. Now that he was back in the capital, he wanted to throw himself into the search. He told Paul what his first move had been.
‘You went to the Home Secretary?’ asked Paul in surprise.
‘He’s responsible for law and order in this country.’
‘That must make him a very busy man. However did you get access to him?’
‘His brother contrived an appointment for me.’
Paul grinned. ‘Brothers do come in useful from time to time,’ he said. ‘But tell me about Sidmouth. Was he pleased to see you, or did he object when he realised the purpose of your visit?’
Peter gave him a concise account of the interview and confessed that he’d left the Home Office in a state of confusion, refusing to believe that Sidmouth had direct involvement in the suppression of radical movements further north, yet sensing that the man was somehow guilty of actions Peter detested. At all events, he didn’t expect to be allowed anywhere near the Home Secretary again.
‘You’ve lost an important ally,’ said Paul.
‘In times as stressful as this, all friendships come under strain.’
‘You’re being very philosophical, Peter.’
‘I’d say that I was being pragmatic.’
‘You always did like to quibble.’
‘What do you propose to do next?’
‘Ideally,’ said Paul, ‘I’d like some time alone with our renowned President of the Board of Trade but I doubt if Oswald Ferriday will let me within a mile of him.’
‘He obviously has something to hide.’
‘You could say that of all politicians – even Sir Roger Mellanby.’
‘Who was this mistress of his that you met?’
‘Kitty Denley. There’s much more to come from her yet. Seeing her again is one of my priorities.’
‘What about me?’
‘I’d like your opinion of her husband, Hugh Denley. I certainly haven’t crossed his name off the list of suspects yet. Losing a duel rankles, especially if it means you lose your wife into the bargain.’
Peter came to a sudden halt.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Paul.
‘I’ve just thought of something,’ said Peter. ‘Sir Roger’s son and his lawyer came to London to attend the inquest before taking the body home. What were the two of them doing at the House of Commons?’
Reading a play with an actress she held in the highest regard had not only taken Dorothea’s mind off her anxieties, it had tired her. The performance as Isabella – albeit only a first reading of the role – had required effort and concentration. It had taxed her emotions. Worried about Price earlier on, she’d been unable to sleep but she was now close to exhaustion. Her eyelids now began to flutter and she drifted gently off.
Hannah was glad to see her getting some of the rest she so obviously needed. As she looked down at her friend, she was reminded of herself at that age. She, too, had been a young actress, struggling to make her mark in an unforgiving profession. Her beauty had attracted unwanted attention from men in the company and aroused jealousy in the women. Like Dorothea, she had once fallen in love with a man who had deceived her but, in her case, she had realised her mistake in time.
Without disturbing her friend’s slumber, she got up and went to the bureau to take out the letter she’d received from the Prince Regent. It still left her in a state of indecision. The invitation was carefully worded and there was a real flourish to the signature. It had been sent by someone who was used to being obeyed. Hannah was still poring over the invitation when Dorothea came instantly awake.
‘Oh,’ she said, sitting up with embarrassment, ‘I do apologise.’
‘You’ve nothing to apologise for, Dorothea. You’re fatigued and overwrought. How you stayed awake this long I don’t know. Your body was telling you that you needed a rest. That’s why you fell asleep.’
‘It was dreadful of me, Miss Granville.’
‘I’m not complaining. To be honest, I was glad that you were able to let yourself go like that.’ She held up the letter. ‘While you were getting some long-overdue sleep, I’ve been wrestling with a problem of my own. This is an invitation from the Prince Regent to go to Brighton Pavilion.’
‘What a wonderful honour!’ cried Dorothea.
‘In one sense, it is. In another, I feel that it would make me beholden to him.’
‘But you want to go, surely?’
‘I’m tempted. I’ll admit that.’
‘I’d accept the invitation at once. Everyone says that the Pavilion is like nothing else in this country. How can you even think of turning down His Royal Highness?’ said Dorothea, excitedly. ‘It would be an insult.’
Gilbert Street was a thoroughfare in the more affluent part of Marylebone. He could see that the White Lion was a public house of some distinction. The adjacent house, a detached property of fairly recent construction, had a pleasing symmetry to it. What interested him was that it also had a side gate. He was no longer disguised as a beggar. Having disposed of one of the men ordered to kill him, he felt confident enough to wear his usual apparel. He walked on past the house, then, having reached the end of the road, he waited ten minutes before strolling past it again on the opposite pavement. His reconnaissance was complete.
Thanks to his brother, Peter had some idea what to expect when he called on Hugh Denley. He was
a tall, spare, agitated man in his fifties with a bulbous forehead and a wispy beard. Though a servant allowed Peter to step into the hall, he got no further. Denley came out to see who his visitor was.
‘What are you doing here, Mr Skillen?’ he asked, inhospitably. ‘I’ve told you all that I’m prepared to say. You may as well leave at once.’
‘Before I do that,’ said Peter, ‘there’s something you should know. The person you talked to earlier was my twin brother, Paul. He was grateful that you felt able to be so frank with him. When reviewing his notes of the conversation, however, he felt that there were one or two gaps. I’m here in the hope of filling them.’
‘Then you’re going to be disappointed.’
‘Don’t be too rash, sir.’
Denley opened the front door again. ‘Goodbye, Mr Skillen.’
‘If you turn me away, I’ll feel duty-bound to pass on your name to the Bow Street Runners. Their questioning won’t be half as respectful as ours. For a start, they’ll insist that you’re hauled before the chief magistrate and then,’ Peter went on with a cautionary smile, ‘there’s the small matter of your illegal duel.’
‘There’s no need for them to know anything about that.’
‘If we tell them that you fought – and lost – against a man who was later murdered, they’d be bound to take a keen interest.’
Denley shut the door. ‘Come into my study,’ he growled.
Peter followed him down a corridor and into a large room with a desk under one window. Ledgers were stacked on top of each other. Paul had told his brother that Denley was a successful wine merchant and that he owned a warehouse on the Thames that stocked the wine imported from abroad. Since the end of the war, the vineyards of France had resumed their supplies.
Denley was brusque. ‘What do you wish to know?’
‘Tell me about your relationship with Sir Roger Mellanby.’
‘Your brother asked me that.’
‘Yes, but he’s not here, unfortunately. So I’d be grateful if you could humour me. Where and when did you first meet him, for example? And why did you suspect him of taking liberties with your wife?’
Rage of the Assassin Page 17