An Unlamented Death: A Mystery Set in Georgian England (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 1) (15 page)

T
he day had been
a long one, for Adam arrived back at his mother’s house with scarcely enough time to change before dinner. However, his talk with Mr. Sulborne had made him forget his disappointment over Mr. Jempson and so his good temper was restored. He determined not to mention talking with Mr. Sulborne, at least for the present, since that would provoke questions – especially from Miss Lasalle – that he had no idea yet how to answer. He was not able to visit his mother as often as either would like. Now the opportunity to spend another evening in her company – and that of Miss Lasalle – was most welcome. Why spoil it by inviting any situation where he must, in all conscience, refuse to answer their questions?

Over dinner, as if by some unspoken agreement, they each avoided any return to the events of the day. Instead they conversed of generalities and the many friends that his mother had made in the city of Norwich. Later, family matters predominated. Giles was at last getting the finances of his estate into order. While it would be many years before he could pay off all the mortgages, it was good land. He had high hopes of soon restoring his income to a more acceptable level. By selling his father’s most extravagant purchases for the Hall, he had raised enough money to start on the most urgent repairs. Improvements to the various farmsteads would follow. The tenants had been pressing his father to undertake this work for some years. That was why most had resisted any increase in rents. Now, with the tenants happier, Giles’s land agent would be able to bring the rentals up to a more satisfactory level.

In like vein, Adam was able to tell his mother that his medical practice had increased substantially since he saw her last. He would no longer be so dependent on carrying out inoculations to bring in a basic income. The benefits of this process were now more widely recognised. In several localities, the town council, the Boards of Overseers for the poor, or even local charities were paying for people to receive inoculation. But while Adam applauded such improvements in public health, it made it impossible for him to charge reasonable fees for the same service. It was fortunate that he could now find profitable employment in other fields.

To all this Miss Lasalle listened most attentively, though she spoke little. It must all be new to her, Adam thought. How interesting that she had the good sense to stay silent and absorb the new ideas. Many ladies seemed to feel ignorance of a topic should be no barrier to expressing their opinions.

O
nce the servants
had cleared away the remains of an excellent meal, Adam and the ladies retired to his mother's small parlour. The arrival of hot water, teapot and dishes for taking tea would, he knew, signal the start of her questions. He could expect a prolonged and most detailed investigation of recent events. Would Miss Lasalle contribute? Or would she stay quiet, listening and thinking? He could not resist hoping it would be the latter.

He had considered what he would say as he changed his clothes before coming down to dinner. There were certain matters that he could not in good conscience reveal. It was clear he must try to direct the conversation into safer areas.

Adam began by revealing how Mrs. Ross had first written to him. This visit to Norwich had been the earliest opportunity for him to call on her as she had asked. Thus he had gone to her house by arrangement yesterday morning. He had expected, he said, her wish to hear first-hand all he could tell her about the circumstances of her husband’s death. What he had not anticipated was the delicate state of health in which he had found her. As he knew it would, this tale brought several exclamations of the most profound sympathy from both ladies.

Next he explained how he had done his best to allay her worst fears and left her with the best medical advice he could. After Mr. Wicken left, it had suddenly occurred to him that he might do more. That was why he was so eager to see her again, before he returned to Aylsham. Thankfully he had found her somewhat improved.

As his mother knew, he said, the matter of the rift between Dr. Ross and his son had been mentioned to him. Now, on this second visit, she had told him of it herself and how she had been unable to intervene. It was his firm opinion that grief over this event was causing great injury to her health. She feared her son’s continued absence meant that he was not able to forgive her for appearing to take his father's part.

‘I always disliked Dr Ross,’ his mother said at this point, ‘but now I find that I have nothing but the most profound contempt for the man. What a loathsome creature! To be such a tyrant to his poor wife and family. If indeed, after death, we face that strict judgement which he so often proclaimed, he resides now in one of the lower depths of Hell.’

Then Miss Lasalle spoke. As Adam had hoped, she had stayed silent until now, absorbing his words without comment. ‘I wonder that so many parents see marriage as the natural end of any daughter's existence. Some unions, I own, bring much joy. It would be best had others never taken place. My own father was horrified when I renounced any intention of marriage. Yet your tale, doctor, offers ample proof that I may yet avoid great sorrow by my choice.’

‘Do not judge all men by the standards of one, my dear,’ Mrs. Bascom said. ‘Yet I cannot but agree that a bad marriage is like to be worse than none at all.’

Adam wondered at Miss Lasalle's words. She was still young. She was comely enough and undoubtedly capable and intelligent. What might have brought her to such a firm decision to remain single? Sometime, he might be able to satisfy his curiosity on this matter, but not now.

F
or the moment
, Adam excused himself from explaining more about Mr Wicken’s identity and the reasons for his visit. Instead, he said, he would note only this. Mr. Wicken came from the Alien Office in London and his interest in Adam and what he had seen stemmed from certain questions asked at the inquest on Dr. Ross. The detail was, he said, confidential and he was not at liberty to divulge what he had been told in that way.

However, part of what Mr. Wicken had said made it clear that there was no connection between the death of the archdeacon and his falling out with his son. On his second visit to Mrs. Ross, Adam was able to assure her that her fears on this count were baseless.

It took a moment for his mother to make the connection herself, then, her hand pressed to her mouth, she stared him in horror. ‘Oh…it cannot…not murder! She cannot have imagined that! Oh, the poor woman. That must be enough to destroy the most balanced mind, let alone one already weighted down with shock and grief.’

‘In such a situation,’ her son said, ‘human beings are rarely able to consider matters in a rational way. No, I do not think she ever believed it was possible. I think she was so sick with guilt at her own inactivity and submission to her husband, that she feared the greatest of all punishments. What drove her mind to near total distraction was remorse, not a belief in her son’s real capability to commit murder.’

‘It must be so,’ Miss Lasalle murmured. ‘No mother would think that.’

‘Even though, in her heart, she knew her fears must be false,’ Adam continued, ‘she could not set them aside. Rather she used them to punish herself for what she had done – or rather not done.’

‘She has no guilt,’ his mother declared, speaking with total firmness. ‘All this is on her husband’s head, not hers. Whether it was chance or another’s hand that sent Archdeacon Ross from this world, it has but rid us of a foul hypocrite.’

‘Aye, madam,’ Miss Lasalle added. ‘What you say is true. That man must prove a most shameful stain on the church that he claimed to serve. I am glad I never encountered such a one.’

For a time, none of them wished to speak further. Their hearts were too full of pain and anger. It was Adam who sought to lighten their mood.

He explained that he hoped by contacting Mr Jempson to set enquiries in train that might serve to locate young Mr. William Ross. If that proved possible, he would next send a message imploring him to return home and set matters right again with his mother. Only then, in Adam’s opinion, would she be able to return to full health. His mother applauded this action warmly and Miss Lasalle too smiled upon him. To his surprise, he found he liked that very much.

Finally, he turned again to the matter of Mr. Wicken.

This was the subject on which he felt he must tread with most care. He did not doubt that Mr. Wicken had told him things which he should not share with anyone else. Yet he had also assured Adam that matters regarding the smuggling gang – and the business of ferrying people in and out of the country in secret – were completed. Adam had spent some time before dinner considering how he might best explain Mr. Wicken’s visit on that basis alone.

Thus he now began. First he told his mother how the archdeacon’s death had been a most inopportune event for the plans to seize the smuggling gang. How the authorities had feared that too close an investigation might scare the criminals away. And how, when it appeared the death might be accidental, they seized on this as the best way to calm suspicions. Mr. Wicken had, he said, assured him that his questions at the inquest had been appropriate both from a legal and a logical point of view. Only the overriding need to preserve the planned operation had made them seek to suppress his curiosity. His visit today was a belated explanation and an apology for what had happened.

‘I suppose that was kind of Mr. Wicken,’ his mother said at this point. ‘Yet it was no more than your due.’

‘This Mr. Wicken seems a most important person,’ Miss Lasalle added. ‘I wonder that he came so far to do what he could have done in a letter. Was there not more to his visit than this?’

Adam's startled glance at Miss Lasalle when she said this must have conveyed more than he had intended, for she blushed and hung her head.

‘Pardon me, doctor,’ she said. ‘I interrupted you with my curiosity. Pray continue and I will hold my tongue. In some matters, I suspect, discretion is worth more than I guessed.’

Adam was discomfited by her sharpness of mind. But since she must have realised he was editing his story a good deal, he was still more grateful she had the good sense to assume he had reason for doing so. Miss Lasalle, he decided, was even cleverer that he had first imagined.

His mind relieved, Adam continued after the briefest of pauses. Mr. Wicken, he said, had next told him the smugglers had all been captured, thanks to the deception the authorities used to direct attention to the area around Lynn. Best of all, they had also been able to seize a man who was involved in the secret passage of spies and other undesirable people into and out of England. That was none other than Constable Garnet.

The circumstances of the archdeacon’s death had no connection with the smugglers. Indeed, Adam told his little audience, Mr. Wicken had no idea why Dr. Ross went to that place. Nor had any signs or information emerged that pointed to any other person being present. It was this latter news that he had carried to Mrs. Ross with all dispatch.

To his enormous relief, his mother seemed satisfied with what he had told her. Aside from one or two questions about Mr. Wicken himself, which he was able either to deflect or to answer in innocuous ways, she seemed content to let the matter rest.

In Miss Lasalle, he could only trust to that discretion she had praised. For several moments, the young woman was silent and seemed to be struggling with some internal debate. Then, having reached her decision, she smiled at him again and thanked him for letting her stay to hear his tale. His ordeal was over.

Still, as Adam lay in his bed that night, he could not help but wonder whether Miss Lasalle would let him off so easily. He was certain she guessed something of how much he had omitted. She had also owned to being of a curious disposition on most subjects. Yet even if she pressed him, he would not be able to go further. His last thought as he drifted into sleep he would later recall with amazement. At that moment, it seemed, he felt nothing would be more agreeable than to win her trust in him, in this matter and in many others.

A
dam did not
, in the end, return to his own house until Sunday afternoon. His mother’s company acted as balm to his mind after the stress of the past few days. Even Miss Lasalle seemed to grasp his need for relaxation. Whatever questions were still in her mind stayed there.

Though the weather continued to deny that summer had arrived, the ride back to Aylsham was uneventful. He had no fears that his absence might have proved a problem. Mrs. Brigstone was entirely capable and trustworthy, well used to taking full charge of household matters.

Amongst the letters waiting for him was a brief letter from his brother Giles. A servant had brought it over on Friday from Trundon Hall. Giles must have received a similar letter from their mother to the one she sent to Adam. Now he expressed some surprise – and not a little apprehension – at her decision to find a companion. Like Adam, he must have imagined some withered and embittered spinster, who might mar the good relations that had always marked their family, even in the worst days of their father's financial woes.

Adam immediately wrote in return. He related his visit to his mother and commented on her continued health and high spirits. He was also able, he hoped, to set Giles' mind at rest about Miss Lasalle. ‘She is a delightful, modest young woman’ he wrote. ‘Her conversation is good, her mind well-developed and her manner entirely appropriate.’ He did not notice his failure to describe her appearance in any way.

Of course, his sister-in-law Amelia saw this at once. When the letter was shown to her, she told her husband that Adam must be ‘quite smitten’ with Miss Lasalle to be so quiet on this score. Still, as she and Giles knew well, Adam had been smitten with several young ladies in the past and had shown no inclination to suggest matrimony to any.

Beyond writing that he had been spurred to go to Norwich by gaining a new patient there, Adam said nothing about the rest. It would be time enough to tell his brother about other matters when the puzzle had been either cleared up or finally set aside.

This Monday Adam rose late, put on his favourite morning gown and enjoyed a lengthy breakfast. He also caught up with reading the newspapers the carrier had brought from Norwich the previous week. Adam was an avid reader of the news. His mother scorned to buy any journals, labelling them all as purveyors of scurrilous scandal.

Thus it was that he arrived finally at Peter Lassimer’s shop nearly at the noon hour. He found his friend with several customers waiting for his attention. Adam was not one to miss any opportunity to ingratiate himself with potential patients. He therefore took the chance to exchange greetings and local news with all those who waited. Maybe fifteen minutes passed in that way until the final customer had been served. Then Lassimer pointed to the door to his compounding room.

‘I have much work to do, doctor,’ he said with a grin, ‘even if lordly physicians like yourself can afford to work but one day in each week.’

Adam replied in kind. ‘Naturally, my friend. A physician’s cures work the first time. An apothecary’s patients must return many times until he hits upon a remedy by chance.’

The antagonism between university-educated physicians and the more lowly apothecaries was well known. It had served many time as a suitable source of banter between them.

Adam was happy to talk while his friend worked to replenish his stock of medicines. Too close attention to the version of events he believed it was safe to share might reveal the gaps and holes in the tale.

T
he story
he told Lassimer was essentially the same as the one he had given to his mother. Lassimer was a good friend, but prone to gossip. Adam could, he knew, have sealed Peter’s mouth by the simple expedient of asking him to treat all as confidential. Yet he had his own reasons for wanting the apothecary to spread abroad much of what he heard in this case. Gossip given leads to gossip received. Adam hoped Peter’s friends, acquaintances and customers might be useful in bringing further information.

When he had finished, he relaxed in the chair Lassimer had set for him by the compounding table and waited for his friend’s reaction.

‘Well,’ Lassimer said at last, ‘it was most odd that Mr. Wicken was willing to come so far just to apologise for what happened at the inquest. I wonder if he had any other reason for seeking you out? I never met the man, but he sounds a most unreliable type of gentleman.’

This was far too close to dangerous territory and Adam acted at once to direct Peter’s attention elsewhere. ‘He did not say he had come to Norwich just for that purpose,’ he said, as casually as he could. ‘I expect he had other business in the city. Maybe he was intending to be present at the assizes when the smugglers are tried. I believe Constable Garnet, being of greater villainy, is to be brought before a judge at the Old Bailey.’

‘There’s another fellow of whom I have many doubts,’ Lassimer said. To himself, Adam breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I wonder why he and Archdeacon Ross planned to meet.’

Adam, sat up in an instant. ‘Why do you say that? Could there have been links between such an important churchman and a gang of smugglers?’

‘I never imagined there was,’ Lassimer replied. ‘But they must have had some contact with one another. You proved it by your own words. Did you not tell me, at the start of this business, that the constable showed no surprise when told the corpse in the churchyard was the archdeacon’s?’

At this, Adam started violently, then struck the heel of his hand against his own forehead.

‘Bascom, you addle-pated nincompoop!’ he shouted. ‘You veritable prince of asses! Lassimer, I thank you. You are a paragon of reason. I should be ashamed to be here, wasting your time. Of course! He showed no surprise at all. Yet anyone, especially a parish constable in a tiny village, should be amazed. Imagine a body, lying in their churchyard, being a person of such rank. He must have expected the archdeacon to be in Gressington.’

‘So they met?’

‘No. They cannot have met,’ Adam said, ‘whatever they planned between them. Now you have set me on the right tack, that is plain. Garnet appeared surprised at the news that a dead man had been found, not that it was a gentleman in fine clothes. Unless he is an actor of the calibre of Garrick or Kemble, which I much doubt, his surprise was plain. It was not feigned, I would stake my life on that. He simply overlooked, in his surprise, to pretend to be staggered at the identity of the dead person.’

‘I thought I had solved it,’ Lassimer said in a plaintive tone. ‘So, let me have this right. They arranged to meet and Garnet either killed Dr. Ross or they had a struggle and Ross fell. Then Garnet ran off to avoid being linked to the dead man.’

‘No. That is not right,’ Adam said. ‘It cannot be so. Garnet may have been expecting the archdeacon, but for some reason no meeting took place. It is not just the evidence of my own eyes that points me to such a conclusion. All we know of Constable Garnet proves he is greedy for money, and not at all concerned how he may come by it. Not only was he paid by the smugglers, I am sure, to stay quiet about their actions. He was also captured in the act of ferrying someone in secret to their ship. Even under close questioning, as Mr. Wicken calls it – I cannot imagine Garnet's treatment to have been gentle – he maintained he had been seeking his own profit.

‘Had he been there when Archdeacon Ross fell and rendered himself unconscious, he would have robbed him before running away. If he had killed the man, the same would be true. Thus he would have garnered a significant amount of money and saleable goods. He would also have made it almost certain the man’s death would be attributed to some cutpurse, robber or vagabond. It was the fact that the corpse had
not
been robbed that first produced suspicion.

‘Oh, he was quick to give the answer of an accidental death, I warrant you that. He would be terrified that someone investigating a homicide would enquire in too much depth. Why was a high dignitary of the church lurking in that churchyard? Whom might he be meeting and why? Even Mr. Harmsworthy claimed to be puzzled by the archdeacon’s determination to reach Gressington that afternoon. When his chaise was badly damaged, he went to great pains to find another to take him.’

‘So Archdeacon Ross had an arrangement to meet Constable Garnet,’ Lassimer said. ‘Or Garnet and someone else.’

‘Indeed he must have,’ Adam replied. ‘Yet, for some reason that meeting did not happen. Instead, either the archdeacon stumbled on others, who attacked him, or he wandered about and fell by chance. No. No,’ he went on at once. ‘Had he met others and been attacked, we would have seen signs of that. Nor would they, if they were smugglers or other felons, have failed to rob him. Perhaps he
did
stumble and fall by chance. Perhaps it is as simple as that.’

‘Perhaps it is,’ Lassimer said, ‘but we are, it seems, no further forward in discovering why Constable Garnet and Archdeacon Ross had arranged to meet. All we know is that must be the reason which took Dr. Ross to Gressington in the first place.’

‘If I write to Mr. Wicken right away, perhaps Garnet may be challenged with our knowledge of the arrangement and led to explain,’ Adam said.

‘That will not serve, I fear,’ his friend said. ‘You said Mr. Wicken left London when the constable was about to stand trial. Unless things have changed, I expect we will read in the newspaper, either tomorrow or the day after, that the court sat last week. Garnet would have been found guilty and may be hanging at the rope’s end even as we speak. No letter from here would reach London in time for your friend Mr. Wicken to stay the course of the law. Not even if you carried it yourself.’

‘Then the matter is at an end and we will never know,’ Adam said.

His despondency must have sounded in his voice, for Lassimer stopped what he was doing and came over to clap a hand to his shoulder. ‘Not at all. Cheer up and start reasoning it out with me. We both doubt that Archdeacon Ross had any interest in seeking out smugglers. What was he eager to discover then? What else might he have thought the constable could tell him?’

‘Yes,’ Adam said, becoming animated again. ‘More than that, what information would he have been willing to pay for? I doubt Garnet would consent to disclose anything without receiving a fat fee first.’

‘I have it,’ Lassimer said in triumph. ‘The archdeacon was always obsessed with rooting out immorality and heresy. He must have suspected some group were meeting in secret near Gressington to conduct Black Masses and violate innocent virgins. People like those fellows associated with Dashwood and Wilkes some years back.’

‘A Hellfire Club? Surely not. Not in rural Norfolk! Besides, even that lecherous group did not violate any woman who was not paid well to allow them to do it. I heard that they brought whores from London to serve their needs. They may have carried out some parodies of sacred rites, but it was never proven.’

‘Would that have mattered to the archdeacon?’

‘No, probably not. His kind of over-zealous nature rarely waits for proof before reaching conclusions. But…’

‘No ‘buts’,’ Lassimer said. ‘You will see that I am right. Some whisper of lechery and blasphemy had reached the archdeacon’s ears and he was hot on their trail. Maybe Constable Garnet had genuine information. Maybe he was pretending, so that he might cheat the archdeacon out of money. Either way, Archdeacon Ross believed he could find out when and where the meetings took place. Knowing that, he could act to seize them. I will make it my business to listen and ask careful questions on the matter. If such rumours reached Norwich, they must reach me.’

‘You will ignore me, I know,’ Adam said, ‘but I urge you to have a care. If such a desperate group exists, they will not stoop from calling down the most terrible curses on any humble apothecary who stands in their way.’

‘Now you make fun of me,’ Lassimer replied. ‘Have it your own way, When I am proved correct in my reasoning, I will remember your derision and make you beg humbly for pardon.’

Adam should have left matters there, but he could not resist making a final observation. ‘It is just…can you imagine any of the gentlemen of these parts as members of a Hellfire Club? Most are dullness personified. They are the epitome of English country squires, addicted only to the pleasures of table and bottle. Indeed, a good many are well past their sixtieth year of age. Even if their minds still run hot with lust for maidens, I doubt their bodies could come near to matching those urges. The only fine flanks their hands run over now are those of their hunting horses and hounds.’

‘Say no more,’ Lassimer said. ‘You have expressed your disdain. Of course, you forget that dull squires have hot-headed sons. Still, that will be your loss. I will wager you a dozen bottles of finest port wine that I am proved correct. Will you accept my challenge?’

‘I will,’ Adam said, ‘Though buying such wine will harm your purse, while seeing me drink it will injure your pride still more. Now, sir, enough. You have patent cures to concoct and I have serious medical business to pursue. Let us each to our own tasks. I will await your reports with eager anticipation.’