Death at the Devil's Tavern (15 page)

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 there 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?'

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.

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 frowned, 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.