The Fabric of Murder (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 2) (4 page)

Foxe thanked the alderman for being so helpful and rose to take his leave.

‘A word, sir. I would send a few constables to patrol the area beyond the river for the next few nights. I think various people have grudges they want to settle by attacking Bonneviot’s house and warehouse.’

‘How the devil did you know that! Word reached me only moments before you arrived that some rabble had been throwing stones at his house this very day. Already sent someone to call the constables and make sure they’re alert for worse. I’m glad I did, now you’ve mentioned it too.’

‘Oh, and one last thing. I think I may have one or two things for your personal attention soon.’

‘Good, Foxe, good. Just send word and I’ll be round. Damn me! You move fast when you’ve a mind to it.’

As Foxe returned to the chair waiting for him outside, he was well pleased with his day. Bonneviot had indeed been a hard man. The question was, how else might he have sought his own profit at others’ expense?

Back home again, Foxe planned his next moves. There was so much he needed to know. Brock had yet to come to him with news and Gracie Catt’s girls were not yet likely to have much to tell him. They were well used to getting information from their clients, but the men in bed with them would have other things on their minds than Bonneviot’s murder.

No, it was up to him. Those assisting him would do what they could, but the problems were for him to solve, not them.

Calling Alfred, he asked him to find the boy, Charlie Dillon, and tell him to be ready to carry a message to Kitty Catt, either at her house or at the Theatre Royal. Then he prepared to word his note carefully. Would dear Kitty please send word to her many theatrical contacts in London to enquire after the Bonneviot son? He did not know his first name, but such a distinctive surname should suffice. Was he working on the stage? What was known of him?

Kitty and her sister rarely did anything without expecting some reward. He therefore added mention of a grand ball that he had heard would be held at Thomas Ivory’s new Assembly House the next month. If he was pleased with her, he wrote, he might ask her to accompany him. That should do it.

The note was written and thrust into Charlie’s dirty hand, together with three whole pence for his trouble. Then Foxe returned to his tasks for the next two days.

First, he decided, he would visit the Calderwood sisters, Hannah and Abigail. Once they had run a Dame School for the children of those who could afford the penny each day they charged per child. Many sent their children largely to know they were safe while their parents worked. Nonetheless, the sisters taught all to read and most to write enough for their future needs. Boys they taught simple arithmetic. Girls learned sewing to make clothes for themselves and their families.

Best of all, these two ladies, who must both be beyond their seventieth year, had lived amongst the working people of Norwich their whole lives. If anyone could tell him the story of Daniel Bonneviot’s life and background, it would be them.

Bonneviot’s financial status also worried him. For the past few years, Norwich master weavers had been riding high. The worsteds, camblets and other materials they produced, were in strong demand. Norfolk shawls had never been more popular. Whether it was silk and camblet for petticoats or flowered and patterned stuff for a gentleman’s waistcoat, London wanted what Norwich provided.

Why, then, had Bonneviot been laying weavers off? Why had he been seeking to drive his costs down so much? There was a mystery there and one that might have a good deal to do with his death.

Yet how to discover the answer was a problem. In the end, Foxe decided on a double approach. He would see if he could start a useful conversation amongst the denizens of the coffee-house. All would have known Bonneviot and many might have done business with him. Then he would visit his friend and customer Mr. Nathan Hubbard. Hubbard was an attorney much involved in drawing up contracts, leases and bills of sale. He was also an inveterate gossip with a nose for future business. If Bonneviot were in financial trouble, Hubbard might sense a chance for profitable legal work.

So far so good. What else? Yes, Sebastian Hirons.

The Norfolk Intelligencer
was one of the more useful newspapers in the city. Mr. Sebastian Hirons was its editor. Editions came out thrice weekly, carrying London, national and international news as well as information on local matters. Since a city devoted to trade, banking and shipping, as Norwich was, had a great need for accurate, up-to-date news, Hirons was a man who knew many things. He also had a prodigious memory. Many times, articles in his paper drew links between events past and present in a way that other papers could not match. Foxe had known him for many years. There had once been few boundaries between printers, booksellers, and the publishers of broadsides and newspapers. Mr. Fox’s own father had been a printer of broadsides, corantos, pamphlets, handbills and other forms of street news-sheets.

Now, he must talk with Bonneviot’s widow. Everyone had ignored her. The alderman had called her a ninny. Yet she might well know more of her husband’s dealings and situation than they thought. She also had a right to know that someone was trying to find her husband’s murderer and bring him to justice.

There was something melancholy about Daniel Bonneviot’s house. Even from the outside, it showed little sign of care, though it was well-built, fronting the street like a prize-fighter staring down an opponent. Inside, all was clean, but somewhat old-fashioned. The home of a bachelor, you might say. A man who had inherited his father’s home and furniture and been content to let things be as they always had been. No sign of a woman’s touch either. Did Bonneviot ever entertain? Did any save business associates come here at all?

Mrs. Bonneviot received Foxe in the parlour. Though she wore conventional mourning attire, she showed no other sign of sadness or grief. Her voice, as she greeted her visitor, was low and firm. A tallish woman. Neat in her appearance and with a good figure. None would ever call her beautiful, but neither was there anything to justify the epithet of ninny the alderman had bestowed upon her.

They exchanged polite greetings, Foxe added the appropriate words of condolence and she invited him to sit. A maid brought tea.

‘You wished to speak with me about my husband, sir?’

‘Indeed. The mayor and certain other notable men of the city have asked me to see if I can help bring the murderer of your husband to justice.’

An odd look, almost defiant. She knew what she was about to say would not be either expected or conventional.

‘I do not condone murder, sir. Yet whoever did this deed has given me a great benefit, even though he will not know of it. He has given me my freedom at last.’

Here was a surprise indeed.

‘Your freedom, madam?’

‘My husband was a bully and a tyrant, sir. I know he never loved me, but love and marriage rarely go together outside the pages of books. I do not know whether he even liked me much. He married me for my dowry, as many men do. Sometimes a true regard and affection builds between husband and wife over the years. In our case, it did not.’

‘I am sad to hear that. Yet you had children.’

‘One child. A son. Eliza is my step-daughter, and she despises me as her father taught her. It would not be seemly for me to talk of matters of the bedchamber. I will say though that my husband always had what he wished and was not unwilling to use force to get it.’

‘It was really your family’s business I wished to discuss.’

‘Then you have wasted your time, sir. I know almost nothing of it. My husband held the opinion that a wife’s task was to provide a comfortable home, no more. I often heard him say that the feeble brains of the female sex were unsuitable for matters of importance.’

‘You never noticed for yourself what was happening? His warehouse and offices appear to be next door.’

‘He kept me a virtual prisoner, as he did his daughter, until she finally married – against his wishes, so that he cut her off from that day. Though he did not want my company, he would not have anyone else have it. I have no friends in this city, sir, and few acquaintances. Now he is dead, as soon as I may I will leave and return to my family home in Hertfordshire, shaking the dust of this place off the soles of my feet as I leave.’

‘And your son …?’

‘I do not even know where he is. When he visited us last, my husband ordered him from the house and vowed he should never return. He also cut him out of any inheritance. It did not do to defy my husband’s commands. None who did so ever escaped punishment.’

‘Might your step-daughter know where he is? Does he even know of his father’s murder?’

‘My answer is the same to both questions, Mr. Foxe. I do not know. I am sorry to be such an unsatisfactory witness, but you must blame my husband and not me. Though, in truth, if I knew the name of his killer and could tell you exactly where to find him, I am unsure that I would do so.’

‘I am truly sorry that you feel thus, madam, though I believe I might have felt the same in similar circumstances. You have been most cruelly mistreated. I cannot put any of that right, nor will I insult you by talking of abstract notions of justice. Yet I feel a great sadness that in our day any husband might treat his wife as yours has dealt with you.’

‘You know, Mr. Foxe … I think I even believe you. I am glad you came to see me, for you have restored a little … a very little … of my belief in human kindness. I doubt we will meet again, nor can I wish you success in your investigations, for the reasons I have explained. Yet I wish you well as a person, sir. Do you have a wife?’

‘No, madam.’

‘Then you should take one, sir. There are few men today worthy of the love of a woman. You should not deprive our sex of even one of them.’

‘
T
o be honest with you
, Foxe, I’m somewhat disappointed.’

In Foxe’s experience, there were two kinds of book collectors. There were those for whom possession was all. Some bought many books, some few, but all were willing to pay almost any amount for something upon which they had set their hearts. Then, having bought it, they retreated into some inner sanctum to gloat over their purchase as a miser contemplates his gold. For the second category, it was finding and securing some addition to their collection which mattered most. These were like hunters, filled with the joy of the chase and maybe even a little sad when the quarry was at length run to earth and secured.

Alderman Halloran was definitely in the first group. His was a working library. Indeed, he seemed often to take far more interest in searching through his books than running his business. Foxe had asked him about this once. He received the enigmatic reply that the success of his business depended in large part on his purchases of books, not the other way around.

‘Alderman,’ Foxe protested, ‘it was but an initial visit. I have had scant time to search. I do not normally make so much as a mention of possible new purchases to anyone, until I arrive at their door with chosen volumes already in my possession. It is only because I know how eager you are for fresh discoveries that I told you at all.’

‘I’m sorry, Foxe. I should not have spoken thus. It is good of you to tell me about these things. Of course, if you could but mention the source of these fresh volumes, I might well be able to …’

Foxe laughed. ‘You will not catch me that way, Alderman. You know I make it an inflexible rule never to reveal the source of what I buy.’

Alderman Halloran smiled and looked rueful. ‘Suppose I should have known. Well, you know I am not interested in old manuscripts, even with fine illuminations. Books on alchemy? No, not for me. I dare say you will find others eager enough for both those categories. I am a Freemason, as you no doubt know, but I do not collect books on the Craft. I can ask in my Lodge and elsewhere to see if others are, if you wish. Natural philosophy. You said there were some on that subject? That is much more to my taste, especially if they bear on the system of understanding pioneered by Sir Isaac Newton.’

‘I did.’

‘I recall you once asked me why I spent so much on books, both in time and money. It seemed to me then that you expected a merchant and man of business to have quite different interests. That I should be always in my counting-house or warehouse.’

‘I was somewhat curious, Alderman. I know you to be a most successful yarn merchant. That did not seem to be consistent with collecting books as you do. Of course, I have some customers who value books for their bindings, the beauty of the pages or their antiquity. They collect books as others collect paintings or statues. Yet, if I am not mistaken, it is the content of a book which interests you.’

‘You are not mistaken, Foxe. Our times are marked by constant and rapid change, and not just in knowledge of the natural world and its principles. Men who can make use of such knowledge in practical ways often become rich and successful. They invent new means of manufacture, transport and use of all the other raw materials of this country’s wealth. I am ever interested in how I might improve my own business thus. If I do not do it and others do, they will gain an advantage I might well be unable to match. In time, Foxe, much of the labour of men will be replaced by machines able to work faster and without ceasing for rest. We are already seeing such machinery in use in the worsted trade elsewhere. If Norwich lags behind, it will lose its pre-eminence.’

‘I will make a list of such books and bring it to you when I can, Alderman. I seem to recall there were more than a few. The owner is not selling his whole library, as I think I mentioned. He has a pressing need for some extra funds at present. I have promised to find the money for him with the loss of as few volumes as possible.’

‘Gambling debts, I’ll warrant. Or some demanding mistress. Hold on! I believe I heard that Lord and Lady Tomitt have the most grandiose plans for rebuilding Tomitt Towers in the Gothick fashion. They must need a good deal of money for that. Tomitt’s father was Grand Master of the Thetford Lodge as well.’

‘Those who fish often do so in vain, Alderman, as I am sure you know.’

‘Oh, very well, Foxe. Bring me what you think I might like and I will probably be persuaded, as so often with you. But find something more exciting, and you will find me more eager.’

‘There is one thing, Alderman. A puzzle.’

‘You and your puzzles, Foxe! Whatever now.’

‘Have you ever come across a bay of shelving made to conceal something behind it? Made unusually shallow, for example.’

The alderman looked at Foxe in an odd way. Then, having made up his mind, he walked towards the far corner of his library, beckoning Foxe to follow.

‘Many of us indulge in … how may I put it? … Books on subjects we would not wish to be on show for a casual visitor to stumble across. And before you get the wrong notion, let me make it clear I do not speak of erotica. I imagine every gentleman has a few volumes of that sort – even you, I dare say. No, what I am speaking of are the kind of books whose possession might arouse unwanted speculation. A sober clergyman might have a secret interest in the occult, for example. He would not wish his parishioners, let alone his bishop, to suspect as much.’

‘And your secret interest, Alderman? Not magick, surely!’

‘Of course not! Still, I have a position to maintain. It would hurt my business if people thought I held unusual or, especially, heretical religious views. I am trusting you here, Foxe. You are aware of that?’

‘Indeed, Alderman, and I am flattered. Have no fear. My own private views on many topics, secular and spiritual, would not bear close scrutiny by those of an orthodox disposition.’

They had come to a set of shelves set into a narrow space between a window and the end wall of the room. There was nothing odd about them, so far as Foxe could see, until … ah, there was that same odd regularity in the size and layout of these volumes. Alderman Halloran leaned forward slightly. He counted six books from the left of the third shelf from the floor, then placed two fingers on the top of the book thus selected.

‘Observe,’ he said. When he pulled his fingers forward, there was a faint click. The book itself seemed to pivot forwards and the right edge of this whole set of shelves swung an inch or so away from its normal place. Then, reaching into the space, the alderman pressed some other release. Thus he could swing the shelves outwards to reveal a duplicate set of shelving behind. The books on these hidden shelves were as irregular in size and binding as you would expect. Nor were all the shelves full. This private section still had space for a good few additions.

‘Some years ago, Foxe, I met a most learned man. He was a refugee from persecution in his native land come to our shores to find liberty of conscience. He it was who first stimulated my interest in the ideas of those whose reasoning was not limited by the claims of churches or religious authority. Like his friends, he relied only on reason to be his guide in all matters, especially in understanding the laws of the natural world. I was entranced. Yet he gave me the most solemn advice never to reveal my thoughts to any but a chosen few. He had been chased half across Europe and must live the life of a fugitive even here.’

‘It was sound advice.’

‘It was. Even in the time of the great Sir Isaac Newton, many claimed the revelations of the bible contained all knowledge needed. The churches feared for their authority. Their influence would be undermined if statements based on supposed divine revelation proved to be untrue. It is not always easy to disentangle discoveries in natural philosophy from theological dispute.’

‘The churches saw men of reason and science as heretics or atheists?’

‘Yes. Perhaps some scholars or wealthy gentlemen can afford to ignore disapproval. They do not face the threat of customers going elsewhere. I have learned to appear the most typical of merchants on the outside. I do not deny my true interests. I make sure never to be where I must reveal them. Men say I am a presbyterian in religion. That sect does not demand any set profession of faith. Thus I may attend their services, without making myself a hypocrite in my own eyes.’

‘I thank you again, Alderman. I will not betray you. And now that you have shown me this trick, I may have more to report on my next visit.’

‘Beware of over-confidence! The carpenter who made this for me said he had made several such devices. Yet he always took care that each should have a release mechanism that was unique. You must not assume the shelves in the library you are dealing with are released in exactly the same manner. There is still a puzzle for you to solve.’

On his way home, Foxe considered his next moves. He would return to the earl’s library as soon as he could, of course, but first he needed to make better progress in the investigation of Bonneviot’s. Too much was still unexplained. The man had been hard on many people, but that had always been his way. Why should anyone decide to kill him now? If any had hated him so much, they must have had opportunity to do him harm long ago. In the end, Foxe decided his next step should be to visit Eliza Swan. It was long odds, but she could not be ignored. He could see no reason why she might have suddenly wished her father dead, though she had probably done so many times over the years. Still, she might at least know something of the tensions within his household. Bonneviot had treated both wife and daughter as chattels. He had been ready to strike his wife if she went against his wishes – perhaps he used his daughter in a similar way. He had even thrown his only son out of the house and his inheritance, when it was clear he would not bow to his father’s demands. No, he was even more the domestic dictator than his father had been. Was that alone enough to lead to his death?

Foxe made a detour to call again at Kitty Catt’s house. Since it was still some time before the hour of dinner, he was fortunate to find her at home. Yet there she was, wearing a neat day-gown of flowered worsted and looking for all the world like the daughter of a prosperous merchant, since that, indeed, was what she was. Her parents, now both dead, had left their two daughters very well provided. At the moment, she was looking over her lines for her next performance.

‘It’s no use expecting to be invited to dine with me, Ash,’ she began at once. ‘This evening I dine at Lady Wakeham’s home. But since I have no performance tonight, and she has the habit of dining late, that leaves me …’ She looked at the small clock on the mantle in the room. ‘… quite two hours of freedom.’

Foxe would have assured her that he had not come seeking an invitation to dinner, but she went on before he could speak.

‘I received your letter, dear Ash, and am, as they say, quite at your disposal. My sister was green with envy that you asked to take me to the ball.’ Yes, she would not have been able to resist imparting that news on the instant. ‘You had better have a similar gift for her when you see her next. Indeed, if she did not so much enjoy a certain other kind of encounter with you …’ Here she looked at the front of Foxe's breeches. ‘… I declare she would be quite unwilling to forgive you for giving me the invitation first.’

Foxe shook his head. ‘I suppose it never occurred to you to remain silent on the matter for a day or so.’

‘Not for an instant!’

‘I suppose I ought to have known. But I have come here indeed upon that matter, Kitty. Will you be free one day soon to accompany me to a certain mercer’s shop? I thought we might go as an indulgent husband buying a small – yes,
small
, Kitty. Heed the word – gift for his young wife.’

‘Which shop?’ Kitty was all business in a moment.

‘I am told it was once owned by a Mr. Swan and is now run by his widow.’

Kitty clapped her hands together in delight.

‘That is quite the best and most fashionable mercer’s shop in the city! How kind of you to take me there to purchase material for the new gown I will need to accompany you to the ball. It must needs be something unusual, even striking. Rich, naturally, but all the other ladies will have gowns of rich silk and the like. No, this gown must stand out.’

Damnation! He should have thought of that. He could only hope the visit would be worth what it would undoubtedly cost him.

‘It is also quite the best place to buy the present you owe my sister too.’

Worse and worse!

‘She has jewels a-plenty, but cloth for a new gown – or even two – might just soften her mood towards you somewhat.’

‘Kitty! I am not made of money. I will buy you sufficient for a ball gown. I will even buy material to dress your sister – though she must have more gowns already than she can ever wear. But I will not be milked like some placid goat. Even I have my limits as far as the Catt sisters are concerned. Drive too hard a bargain and it may be the last we make.’

Kitty looked at him steadily for a moment. ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘but you should know both of us well enough by now to understand that, while we may tease, we love you too well to inflict any real harm.’

‘Thank you, my dear. Now, I should leave you to make ready for your engagement. Shall I call for you at eleven? It will be best if you dress as the young wife of a wealthy merchant, for we want Mrs. Swan to deal with us herself.’

‘Eleven it is. But you do not escape so easily, Ash. I told you I have quite two hours free before I need to dress for dinner. More than enough time to enjoy your most … outstanding … talents.’ She had leaned forward swiftly and seized him in a way that he could not escape without the risk of great pain. Now her fingers were making her intentions still more obvious. Foxe surrendered.

When Foxe finally left her house, nearly two hours later, Kitty was still curled up contently in the nest they had made amongst the bedclothes. For once, she seemed well satisfied with his efforts. And that was good, for he was unsure he could have managed another bout right away.