Jack, Knave and Fool (40 page)

“Unfortunately for me, I did not. No, I took what you told me quite seriously, and I was grateful for your advice, yet there were a number of matters which intervened —my aunt’s funeral, for one, preparations for that near-fatal musical evening, for another. I do recall, however, that you recommended that I engage a bodyguard.”

“A bodyguard would have done you little good those few nights past. It seems you must, like some Oriental potentate, now also employ a food and wine taster.”

“Oh, surely not. Perhaps now that this enemy of the Laningham line has attempted to poison me and failed, he will leave me be for a time.”

“Do you truly believe that, m’lord?”

“Having done his worst? Why not?”

“Not his worst,” said Sir John. “His worst would have been to have succeeded. Or perhaps to murder your wife and daughters as well as yourself.”

“Oh dear!” Lord Laningham appeared appropriately shocked at the suggestion.

“May I put forth a plan?”

“Please, oh please do.”

“Your butler, whom I tend to trust, has informed me that the bottle of wine from which you drank had been chosen specially by you some time before, uncorked, and left to air at a place in the pantry to which the entire household staff had access. So was it with your aunt’s tonic, and so might it also have been with those bottles of wine taken to the Crown and Anchor by your uncle. Having endured what you have, you must now believe that both of them were poisoned?”

“Well, I must, I suppose, though there is that curious discrepancy: I drank from my uncle’s bottle that night of his death and suffered no ill effects from it.”

“Yes, of course, that is a curiosity, is it not? Yet the manner of his death, the sudden attack of vomiting, was quite like what you experienced two nights past.”

“Indeed, it’s true.”

“My point is this,” said Sir John. “This enemy of the Laningham line, as you call him, is either on your household staff or has a close confederate working here. Have you prepared that list of your servants?”

“What? Oh, that. No, as I said, so much has intervened. Poole could provide one, I’m sure.”

“Have him do that. And I suggest you take yourself and your family elsewhere and give me the opportunity to interrogate each one. My methods are such that I firmly believe I shall be able to find our man — or woman. If I cannot prove the case, then my suspicions will be such that you may discharge the person.”

“But why should it be necessary for us to go elsewhere?”

“Why, m’lord, to remove you from further danger. I take it that your estate in Laningham is independently staffed. You would need take none of your servants from your residence here in London with you, thereby leaving your London staff, among which is undoubtedly our poisoner, to me and my powers of interrogation.”

“Yet what about that shot fired at my uncle up in Laningham? You remember? When he was out riding?”

“Ah yes, of course, that was the first attack, was it not? Well, perhaps you would not be entirely safe there. Let me think.” He paused a moment to stroke his chin. “I have it,” Sir John exclaimed. “Why not take your family for a tour of the Continent? You need not do it with a great retinue of servants. Two would suffice. I would suggest the butler and your aunt’s maid, both of whom I’ve already talked to and seemed to me trustworthy. Your daughters would find it quite elevating, and Lady Laningham, as well. Perhaps you yourself have not had that opportunity? “

“Ah, but I have,” said Lord Laningham, as a smile of recollection appeared upon his face. “My uncle may have had his faults, but he was no skinflint. When I reached the age of majority he sent me off on the Grand Tour. An entire year I spent touring the capital cities — Paris, London, Vienna, Venice, Rome, Naples—-viewing the art, tasting the wine, trying the ladies, mere flirting, you understand.”

“Oh, quite. Ah, how I envy you, for you must have seen the great sights — the Mediterranean, the great castles. Lake Como, I have heard, is quite beyond compare. But do you know, had I my sight, I would like most to gaze upon the great mountains of Switzerland and the Austrian Tyrol. Have you … Did you see them?”

“Ah yes, both — such magnificence! Quite beyond description! Switzerland itself has little to offer but a confusion of languages —except for its mountains. Austria, on the other hand, has Vienna and the equally magnificent mountains of the Tyrol. They are very friendly to the English there.”

“And why not? We fought a war on their behalf,” said Sir John. “But there, you see. You have such pleasant memories of that year abroad. Why not give them to your wife and daughters, too? You yourself could serve as their guide.”

“Ah, would that I could. And in a few years perhaps we shall make a trip just as you describe. But for the time being, alas, it is out of the question. I have not yet been presented at court, nor have I properly assumed my seat in the House of Lords. And make no mistake, sir, I mean to be a most active member — acquaint myself with the issues, speak out on them.”

“And will you align yourself with the Whigs or the Tories?”

“That I have not decided quite yet. But when the time comes, I shall choose the party that is in the right.”

“Ah yes, of course you will,” said Sir John. “Since it is your determination to pursue an active political life in London, I can only advise you to engage the services of a bodyguard.”

“I’ll do as you say. And please feel free, Sir John, to enter here at any time and talk to any members of the household staff. I’ll have Poole prepare that list for you.”

“We shall leave it at that, shall we, Lord Laningham? I wish you a goodbye and a swift recovery.”

“Goodbye to you, Sir John Fielding, and I thank you again for your visit to this poor bedridden patient.”

A bow from Sir John, a weak nod from Lord Laningham, and we two made our way through the door, where Mr. Poole materialized of a sudden to lead us down the stairs. At the great door to the street, the magistrate paused and addressed the butler.

“Mr. Poole, you will no doubt be asked by Lord Laningham to prepare a list for me of the members of the household staff. He may present it to you as an urgent matter, but between us there is no great urgency to it. I may come by to talk to the servants one at a time, but they are not to dread these conversations. Please assure them of that. I have even now a fair idea of who is responsible for these attacks upon the late Lord and Lady Laningham and the present lord.”

“That is good to hear, Sir John. And may I pass word of that on to the staff?”

“You may if you care to.”

We said our goodbyes and stepped out into St. James Square. The day was no worse; if anything, it had grown a bit warmer. We set off for Pall Mall, where we might easily find a free hackney.

“Well, Jeremy, what did you make of that?”

“Very little, I fear, sir,” said I. Then did I mention the darkness about Lord Laningham’s eyes, his drawn visage, and his general appearance of weakness. “He seemed truly to have undergone a great physical strain.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt of that. His voice was weaker toward the end of our interview, quite husky, as if it were a strain upon his throat to talk.”

“Yes, but he seemed more confident somehow.”

“Mmmm,” said Sir John, and no more than that.

We walked on in silence until we were quite near Pall Mall, where two hackney coaches stood free for hire. Then did I burst forth in exasperation.

“Sir, was that interview of any use at all? Was what you told Mr. Poole true?”

“Mmmm,” he repeated, yet this time he continued: “Well, those are two separate but related questions. To answer the second, yes, I shall no doubt be dropping by the Laningham residence to collect details, evidence if possible, and yes, I do have a good idea of who bears guilt in all this. It is up to me to build a case now. And as for your first question, indeed the interview was useful, for Arthur Paltrow told me just what I needed to know.”

And thus ill informed, I guided him to the waiting hackney and aided him inside.

Next morning I was with Sir John, once again taking in dictation a letter of no little importance. It was directed to William Bladgett, Esquire, Magistrate of Lichfield, and it gave to him the circumstances of the death of Thomas Roundtree. And it did so in some detail, explaining that though he was party to the disposal of the body of George Bradbury, he had in no wise participated in his murder. (In this, Sir John took what Roundtree had told me as true.) Further, he attributed to the late Roundtree a not altogether reprehensible motive for his actions —that of earning sufficient to take him and his daughter away to the American colonies (again accepting as true that which he had heard from me). Sir John was frank to say, however, that when given the opportunity to escape, Roundtree took it.

“And now,” dictated Sir John to me, his amanuensis, “we come to the matter of Clarissa Roundtree. As chance would have it, she was at the time of her father’s escape in our household recovering from a fit of pneumonia. In spite of her condition, she aided those who went out to search for him. It was her intention to persuade him to surrender. When she arrived in the room they shared, which was where he was first sought, she found her father dying, only a minute or two earlier struck down by him who had done the murder of George Bradbury. Her scream at this shocking sight brought the constable and another who had aided in the search. The constable shot the murderer dead.

“Because of Clarissa Roundtree s aid in this matter, and because Lady Fielding has taken an interest in the girl, I have decided on her behalf to decline your kind offer to welcome her back to the Lichfield poorhouse. Though she is young, she is exceptionally bright, and may even at her present age of twelve be put out for service on the staff of one of the great houses hereabouts. My wife and I have access to a few of them and should be able to find a place suitable for her. Thus it should not be necessary for the Parish of Lichfield to bear the cost of her upbringing. That, I am sure, is a resolution that should satisfy you and the parish board. In my firm certainty of this, I remain, Yr. humble and obedient servant, John Fielding, Magistrate, City of London and City of Westminster.”

I had just written so far and was blowing upon the paper to dry the last lines, when a great commotion was heard in the hallway outside —a familiar voice shouting loud, “Where is he, damn it?” followed by thunderous footsteps. Then did William Murray, the Lord Chief Justice, come bustling into the room. His entrances seemed ever to be made in this fashion.

“Ah, there you are!” said he, as if he had discovered Sir John in hiding.

“Indeed, here I am, and ready to discuss with you the matter of the letter I wrote you yesterday. That, I assume, is why you have come.”

“That and another matter, as well.”

“Very kind of you to come to me, my lord. I should have gladly made the trip to Bloomsbury Square.”

I stood awkwardly to one side, the unsigned letter in my hand. Sir John did not invite me to leave. The Lord Chief Justice paid me no mind. And so I slipped off to one corner to listen and heard all.

Lord Murray threw off his greatcoat, tossed it aside, and dropped into the chair I had lately vacated. He leaned forward so pugnaciously that he seemed near ready to engage in fisticuffs with his blind opponent.

“Let us put all such pleasant preliminaries aside and get down to it, shall we?” said he. “Now, as you well know, when one in the Army or the Navy is wounded past service, he is paid a lump sum and put out on his own.”

“Put out indeed with a bowl to beg, my lord. It is a national disgrace.”

“Be that as it may, the precedent has been set. What makes you think that your constables deserve better?”

“I have reasons, right enough, and they are two. First of all, they are constables, whose work it is to keep peace in the Cities of Westminster and London. They are not many, but they do a good work of it. Could any gainsay that? I believe not. Just think of the criminal disorder in the streets before my brother, God bless his memory, put together this force —robberies in broad daylight, shootings, knifings. Why, one had to go about with sword and pistol to protect what was in his purse. The only force against the lawless was the independent thief-takers who were themselves criminals. The community knows this, and they are grateful to the Runners. Why was I knighted but for their work? The community makes the distinction between my Bow Street Runners and soldiers and sailors even if you do not. They hold them in higher esteem because they protect them directly. The poor wretches who take the King’s shilling or are pressed into service, the public regards as mere cannon fodder sent off to fight in foreign wars whose outcome affects them only indirectly—if at all.”

To give him credit, the Lord Chief Justice listened attentively through all this. He even nodded once or twice, whether in agreement or to signal his understanding, I know not. Yet when Sir John had concluded, he gave but a cold response.

“You said that you have a second reason.”

“I do indeed.”

“I await it.”

“It is this: Mr. Cowley should be given a pension as an example to all the other constables. If he is not given one, if he does, as limbless soldiers and sailors do, appear as a beggar on a street corner—then think of the effect this would have upon my Beak Runners. They would look at him and say to themselves, ‘There is my future.’ They constitute a small force, my lord, yet they quell riots, they hold mobs at bay, they pursue murderers into dark corners. Would they do this so willingly, so fearlessly, if they knew that a serious wound, the loss of a limb, would put them on a street corner opposite Mr. Cowley, begging, hoping to collect enough each day that they might survive the next? No, my lord, I think not. Would you? /would not. If, on the other hand, they hear that Mr. Cowley has been granted a pension —if they meet him on the street and hear from him that he is learning a trade and will soon be able to support himself and his young wife with it—then they will know that whatever happens, they will be provided for. And they will pursue their duties as boldly as ever.”