The Fabric of Murder (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 2) (11 page)

F
oxe considered
that he might fit in a short visit to talk with the alderman on the subject of books before the polite time for taking dinner. That would not violate his promise to Gracie. The last time he and the alderman talked, there had been no occasion for any matter save the death of Bonneviot and its repercussions.

The alderman was, it seemed, dining with several other city dignitaries. Yet he could usually find a few minutes to talk books and that day was no exception.

‘Must be brief, Foxe. My wife is almost ready and it will not do to keep her waiting or be late for our engagement.’

‘I understand, Alderman. But I have here a list of authors some of whose works I could have for sale. If you could just cast your eye over it. Once I know which, if any, are of interest to you, I will bring the relevant volumes for you to examine.’

‘Excellent, Foxe, excellent. Now, let me see … Dammit, man! Can’t you write more clearly than this … Toland … No, not for me. More of a theologian or reformer … definitely a heretic … Desaguliers … Yes, much better. Most learned man. I’ll look at any of his books. Now …’ Thus he went on, thinking and talking at the same time.

In the end, Foxe had a short list of authors of interest. Desaguliers – what an odd name – Priestley, Black, Price, Kay. Newton too, of course, though Ald, Halloran said his books were ‘deuced difficult to understand’. From an earlier time, Bacon, Hobbes and Locke. The alderman had added the names of several French authors whose books would also be of special interest to him.

‘I couldn’t make head nor tail of the writing in that book you left for me, Foxe. I suspect it’s no more than alchemical gibberish. Still, I had occasion to pay a visit to the Master of the Dyers’ Guild yesterday and left the book with him. I know he has all kinds of interests in chemistry and the like. Alchemy too, I shouldn’t wonder. These dyers are close to being alchemists, if you ask me, with all their peculiar brews and concoctions.’

‘Thank you, Alderman. I am most grateful. You’re probably right that none of it means anything much, but I would like to be sure.’

‘What was strange, mind you, Foxe, was how excited he became after he had done little more than glance at it. I wager he knows something about either the book or mind the notes. If you’re lucky, I believe he might buy it from you at a good price. Don’t want to tell you your business, but he’s a rich man. You shouldn’t let him get away with claiming it has little worth, then trying to buy it for a few guineas. You don’t know him as I do. He’s mighty sharp when it comes to money, I can tell you.’

‘I will heed your warning. Now, I must delay you no further. I hope to be able to return in a week or so with several of these books for your approval.’

‘Good fellow! Dinner is a social affair today, Foxe. Organised long ago. Still, a good many of the great men of this city will be present. The mayor should have been there too, but he has excused himself on the grounds of pressing business. I don’t need to tell you what that is. Your discovery has set us all by the ears. Still, the mayor insisted I should keep this engagement in his stead, as you might say. When the ladies have withdrawn, I am charged with warning the others that trouble may be afoot. Then I am to request specific persons to set aside all other engagements to attend on the mayor and aldermen tomorrow. It is a bad business, Foxe. We must try to bring all to a conclusion as quickly as we may.’

‘I agree, Alderman. I only wish I could report on further progress, but that is not yet possible.’

‘Do not think I mean to put pressure on you. I told you purely to make clear that others are now active in this matter. One way or another, we may yet unravel this mess.’

Damn the man! It was, of course, too much to hope that the alderman would not raise the Bonneviot business. He could not know of Foxe’s promise to Gracie. He was far more concerned that Foxe should not think he was planning to spend a convivial evening out when matters of such gravity lay unresolved.

I
n the event
, the walk with Kitty and Gracie passed off successfully on all counts. The weather was fine and mild. The crowds in The Wilderness large enough to allow for the satisfaction of being seen by a good proportion of the middling and better sort of the city. Yet the place was not so thronged with people that it was burdensome in any way.

Foxe wore his newest suit in honour of the occasion. A frock coat fashioned from a pale blue brocade and decorated with a most elaborate filigree pattern in gold and silver thread. Breeches matching the coat both in shade and decoration. Silk stockings of the finest manufacture and shoes in dark blue, with a flowered pattern and silver buckles enriched with small diamonds, to complete the ensemble.

The Catt sisters had chosen their outfits with equal care. Not for them the over-decorated fabrics and towering hats, heavy with plumes and feathers of every type. Since both were blessed with uncommon beauty in their own right, they shunned anything which might suggest their looks relied more on artifice than nature. Thus their gowns were of simple design, though made of the finest materials – rich fabrics in the lustrous dyes for which the city was famed. Kitty shone in rich green to complement her tumbling auburn curls. Her petticoat was paler green Norwich calamanco, covered with a typical pattern of flowers. Gracie blazed in scarlet taffeta. This she wore over a petticoat of ivory calamanco decorated with golden roses. Even the most censorious ladies had little enough to criticise. Yet the two were assured that they would be the primary topic of conversation for several days to come.

Most of the gentlemen present regarded Foxe and his ladies with amazed envy. Those who were acquaintances of his went out of their way to present their compliments and thus be seen for a while in what had to be the best company out that day. Gracie and Kitty’s far more numerous male acquaintances were less apt to greet them openly when their wives were present. Some, unable to pass without any acknowledgement, even contrived to assume an acquaintance with Foxe that was new to him. Others had to be content with furtive glances and the briefest of smiles, when they were able to catch one of the sister’s eyes.

Dinner at Foxe’s house matched the rest of the day in tasteful splendour. Mrs. Dobbins provided two courses of richly flavoured dishes light enough to allow the guests to sample a little of each. Alfred, at his master’s instruction, first poured an excellent champagne. Later he brought wines from the pick of the hocks and clarets in Foxe’s cellar. Since that was the finest cellar in the city, though few knew it, these wines would not have been out of place at the King’s table.

Neither Gracie nor Kitty were prone to drink too heavily. When they all passed into the drawing room for tea and a few games of cards, they were cheerful and relaxed, rather than muddled in their speech.

Thus the time passed until the carriage, ordered by Foxe to convey the ladies to their homes, left shortly after midnight. For while neither lady need rise at an early hour, Foxe had received a note during the evening from Alderman Halloran. He was requested to wait on the alderman at ten o’clock the next morning. It sounded like a command.

W
hile he was taking
his breakfast, Foxe heard someone come to the front door of his house and Alfred going to answer it. A few moments later, Alfred himself appeared, carrying a parcel that looked as if it might contain one or two slim books.

‘That was the Earl of Pentelow's coachman, Master. His Lordship sent him to deliver this. It seems you asked for the records of some matter about His Lordship’s books. The footman should have given them to you on your visit the day before yesterday, but he forgot the matter. Thus they have been brought today. There is also a letter with them.’

The Earl’s letter was brief. These books contained the records of book purchases kept by his father and grandfather. He hoped they would be useful. Then he had added a further hope, this time that any second payment might be soon in his hands. Foxe suspected the two hundred pounds he had given the spendthrift earl had served to pay off only his most pressing debts.

There was not time today to look through all these records. Still, Foxe could not resist a swift perusal before he returned to more pressing matters.

The sixth and seventh earls had been meticulous record-keepers. They had listed each purchase, including the book titles, authors and the name of the seller. Some marks in a private code probably revealed the price paid, if you knew how to decipher them. How many books the two had bought! Foxe estimated there must be four or five thousand listed. Still, a library of the size of the one at Pentelow Hall could accommodate twice or three times that many with ease.

As Foxe’s eye skimmed the pages, he stopped, stared and read more closely. Then he turned to several further pages. On each, he ran his finger down the lists of sellers and sometimes muttered under his breath. After some minutes of this, he straightened up and called for Alfred.

‘Send young Charlie to find Brock. Tell him it is not urgent, mind, or he will be seeking a greater reward than usual.’ Foxe smiled. He had little doubt Charlie Dillon would grow up to be something of a rogue. Little doubt either that he would be a damned engaging one. ‘He is to ask Brock to call on me this evening, if he is able. Perhaps he should suggest he comes for supper. There is something I wish to show him.’ As he finished his breakfast, Foxe hummed a little tune. Maybe matters were becoming clearer at last.

W
hile Foxe had been enjoying
the sunshine and his delightful female company, it must have been a busy weekend at the City Hall. Alderman Halloran looked tired and pale when Foxe was shown into the library of his fine home in Colegate later that morning. He sat slumped in a chair, staring off into the distance and muttering under his breath.

‘Ah, morning, Foxe. Coffee? I know that’s your usual drink at this time of day. Pull the bell, there’s a good fellow, and I’ll get some sent in. By God, I am near too tired to get up from this chair. Up until all hours. Still, I think we’ve got everything sorted out. Sit down and I’ll tell you what we have agreed.’

Foxe sat. The maid came, already bearing coffee, and poured each of them a dish of it. Then the alderman began.

‘I don’t know how much you understand of the weaving and cloth trade, Foxe. Those who run their businesses well can make good profits, but even they are prey to the whims of London fashion. Let a design be but six months old and many mercers deem it out-of-date and sell what stocks they have for cut prices. Master weavers, even the most successful, must needs walk a fine line. They must keep their out-workers busy by purchasing ample supplies of yarn. That demands good credit and the ability to pay promptly. At the same time, they must get enough orders to ensure the finished cloth leaves their warehouse quickly. The buyers expect credit, of course, so the master weaver must balance payments coming in with those going out. If they get it wrong, they soon find themselves without the money to pay their workers or buy fresh stocks of yarn.’

‘I see,’ Foxe said. ‘They must be clever with money as well as with designs and cloth.’

‘Indeed. Yarn merchants like myself are also at the mercy of ever-changing demands. That is why some are already looking to changing their businesses from selling yarn to banking. The Gurneys, for instance. ’

‘I had heard that too.’

‘Besides that, we all rely on out-workers. Those in Norwich are most prone to riots and other disturbances if they do not receive what they believe is due to them.’

‘Norfolk folk are well known for being disputatious. From the time of old Oliver, they have ever been amongst those most prone to take a stand against any who would try to compel them to obedience.’

‘That is very true. Now … Bonneviot was in a fix. He needed more credit to survive his foolish falling out with his buyers in London. But he could not get extra finance in Norwich. All knew of his quarrel and the difficulties this would make for his business. He had also gone just about as far as he could in delaying payments to his suppliers and out-workers. The suppliers were loathe to give him more credit and the weavers were damned close to burning his house down.’

‘He was desperate.’

‘He was.’ The alderman sighed several times. This was matter that he must have rehearsed many times during the past two days. Foxe waited for him to go on.

‘Now, we all agreed that Bonneviot’s business cannot be allowed to collapse in a period of panic. It will be wound up, of course. No doubt about that. The need is to do all in an orderly manner. His debts must be paid to workers and suppliers. His cloth must be sold in the normal way of business – or as much of it as can be – so that the general prices of our stuffs are not affected. That requires extending credit.’

‘From London?’

‘No! They have no interest in the stability of our trade. The London banker whom Bonneviot persuaded to give him a loan will want to pull out of the deal the moment he hears of the man’s death. We do not know if he has advanced any money already. In many ways, we hope that is not the case. If he has, our London friend will be at the head of the queue of creditors. The only way any of them will receive anything is the way we most want to avoid. An immediate auction of Bonneviot’s large stocks of finished cloth for whatever price they can get.’

Foxe sat silent. He had already surmised much of this, but he did not want to hurry the alderman through his explanation.

‘This is what we have decided, Foxe. A consortium of local bankers and merchants have agreed to provide whatever credit is needed. That will make sure the out-workers get their wages and the accounts of yarn merchants and finishers are paid. If the Londoner has lent money, we will ask to take over that loan. If not, he may be ignored.’

‘A sensible solution, sir. I have one suggestion to add, but I would not interrupt you now. We will come back to it.’

The Alderman frowned, but continued. ‘Mr. Callum Burford has been seen by the mayor and the Master of the Weaver’s Company. They have prevailed upon him to keep to his role in disposing of the stocks of cloth Bonneviot had built up. Certain people will assist him to see this is done in an orderly manner. If it goes well, all our loans will be repaid in time. If some are not, that will still cost us less than a collapse in our markets.’

The alderman paused and tasted some coffee, then pulled a face and set down the dish again. Foxe had already drunk most of his. The alderman’s must be cold.

‘So, to come to an end,’ Alderman Halloran said. ’As he sells the stocks of cloth, Mr. Burford will repay the loans and the business will be wound up in stages. Burford’s reward will be to incorporate the best parts of the business into his own firm.’

‘At what cost to him?’

‘That will be between him and the executors of Bonneviot’s will. There will be little enough left for the widow at the end, I imagine. We have spoken with the lawyer handling the probate of the will. It seems Bonneviot had determined to treat his son as he himself had been treated. The son is left nothing. The widow gets the house for the span of her life, or until she remarries, and just enough to live on. The rest goes to various charities and hospitals. Bonneviot probably hoped to be more popular in death than he ever was in his life. Now, I doubt these good works will see much, if anything.’

‘I feel sorry for the widow. The son, I gather, is something of a wastrel.’

‘Yes, the widow may not be as well provided as she should have been. The son, I dare say, will either reform under the shock or go to the bad altogether. Better that, though, than the public disgrace of a bankruptcy – and a mass of creditors seeking to claim even the household goods to sell. The executors of Bonneviot’s will have agreed this route is in the best interests of his estate. No trouble is expected from that quarter.’

‘You have all worked hard, Alderman. I applaud your actions wholeheartedly.’

‘Yet you said you had a suggestion.’

‘It is this. I believe I know who may be behind this whole conspiracy. Yet knowing is not proving. It will not be easy to expose him to the law and obtain a conviction, since he has worked through others. He will, I expect, rather see them go to the gallows to save his own neck.’

‘Can you catch him? I’m sure I speak for all the merchants of this city in saying I would love to see him dangle at a rope’s end!’

‘I think I can, with your help.’

‘You have it! What must I do?’

‘But one thing, for the present. Let Mr. Burford have just enough money to deliver the weavers from the extremity of want. Yes … and to pay those others Bonneviot has kept waiting longest. No more than that. He should put about a tale something like this. He has received payment from some account that has been outstanding for many months. Knowing the extent of the need, he is using the money from this to make partial payments. Whether there will be any more forthcoming, he cannot say.’

‘None will be happy with this. They will assume the rest of what they are owed is lost.’

‘I regret asking for this deception, but there is no other way. I need to flush the criminal into the open. For that, he must believe his scheme has succeeded. If the workers and other creditors are all paid in full, he will smell a rat. Then, as I judge, he will bolt from the city and all chance of bringing him to justice will disappear. No, sir, this is the only way. The more the word goes around that Bonneviot’s business is about to fall into bankruptcy, the safer the villain will feel.’

‘I don’t know, Foxe. It took considerable persuasion to get everyone to agree to what I have told you. To ask them now to delay …’

‘I ask you this most earnestly, sir. It will not be for more than perhaps two weeks at the most, perhaps less. Once we have our man, all debts may be paid in full as you have provided. And if he does not show himself in that time, he will not do so, so further delay will be useless. Just two weeks!’

‘Very well, Foxe. Without your help, we would all be staring into the face of ruin. We owe you this much. I will get agreement to your delay, though I suspect I will earn some foes along the way.’

‘I am most grateful, sir. Most grateful. Now, I will be off to ensure the rest of my trap is set. Please give the mayor my best compliments, Alderman. Tell him I hope soon to have work enough for his sword-bearer and the constables.’

‘The sword-bearer? Then you expect to point him towards criminals to be arrested and brought before the court? That is his role in the city’s affairs.’

‘I do, sir.’

The alderman looked happier for the first time that morning. ‘That will make them agree to your delay, I warrant. If the mayor, in his role as magistrate, may anticipate seeing the rogues who ruined his weekend standing in the dock before him, he will agree to anything.’

As Foxe went to leave, the alderman touched his sleeve. ‘Could you spare a few moments to speak with the Master of the Dyers’ Guild, Foxe? He’s waiting in the small parlour and is most eager to ask you something about those books you left with me.’

Foxe nodded his assent and a servant was sent to bring the Master to the library.