Death at the Devil's Tavern (42 page)

Nobody moved and Julian's voice croaked into the silence, ‘My house in St James's Square.'

‘Is it yours to wager?'

‘Yes,' Julian lied.

‘Very well.'

The Comtesse threw the dice and a double six rolled out onto the cloth. There was a gasp of indrawn breath as Julian picked up the box, knowing that unless he drew equal all was lost. He shook, and a six and a four were revealed. The twin plunged his head into his hands and sobbed.

Serafina leaned across the table and said, very quietly, ‘My dear Miss Hartfield, I have no intention of calling this wager in, but in return for my generosity I want you to honour two very simple requests. First, you must immediately stop masquerading as your brother and thereby causing no end of trouble; it is a dangerous game for any woman to play. And second, you must swear henceforth entirely to give up gaming for which, let me hasten to assure you, you have absolutely no talent whatsoever.'

Exactly one hour later, a sobbing saddened Juliette had been returned to her home and a note left at St James's Square for Julian to attend the Comte de Vignolles on a matter of the utmost urgency. Then, Serafina being utterly exhausted and having retired for the night, John and Louis sat up to wait for him, their manner not at all amused.

At just after midnight, there was a ring at the door, which they answered together.

‘Damme, what's all this about?' the young reprobate demanded languidly, only to be seized by the collar and dragged into the hall by a furious John Rawlings.

‘You ridiculous little man,' the Apothecary shouted, his eyes bright with anger. ‘You deserve to be shot. By indulging in your stupid shabby masquerade, dressing up as your twin sister in order to have easy access to your lady love without the presence of a chaperone, you have placed Juliette in the greatest moral and physical danger. She wanders London dressed as a man, inviting all kinds of misfortune. Why, she could even be challenged to a duel. But her greatest peril is that she is totally addicted to gambling without the skill to go with it, and tonight came within a hair's breadth of losing everything.'

‘I think,' said Louis, sounding very French, ‘that a horsewhip is called for.'

‘By all means,' the Apothecary answered him. He turned back to Julian. ‘I intend to call on your sweetheart's father and tell him exactly how you managed to seduce his daughter in so despicable a fashion. No doubt, he will have his own methods of dealing with you.'

The twin looked so sick that John felt a momentary pang of sympathy for him. ‘Oh no, please don't do that, I beg you,' he pleaded, his voice near to sobs. ‘I promise I am going to do the right thing by her. We are running away to be married as soon as tomorrow's meeting with Mr Fielding is over.'

‘Oh dear God spare us,' said the Apothecary, rolling his eyes, ‘I do believe you have put her with child!'

‘Yes I have,' confessed Julian, and burst into tears.

Remembering the knowing look on Lady Almeria Noel's tough little face, John felt his fury start to subside.

‘That's all very honourable I'm sure,' he answered, slightly less harshly, ‘but think of the cruel thing you did to Juliette by allowing her out and about dressed in your clothes.'

Julian wiped his eyes. ‘I thought she would be all right, that her gambling was only a game, a pastime. I thought she would meet a worthy man who would protect her. Someone like yourself.'

Louis interceded. ‘It is getting late and time that we concluded this conversation. Mr Hartfield, do I have your word of honour as a gentleman, that you will marry the woman who carries your child, and also that you will in future protect your sister not only from external dangers but those that she inflicts upon herself?'

‘Yes, indeed,' said Julian in an earnest voice.

‘Then that is all there is to be said.'

The twin looked from one to the other of them. ‘I apologise …' he began.

‘Save your words,' answered John abruptly. ‘There'll be enough explaining for you to do when you get before Mr Fielding tomorrow.'

On Louis's insistence, the Apothecary took the de Vignolles's coach home, but rather than ask the equipage to turn into the narrow confines of Nassau Street, he alighted from it in Gerrard Street and went the rest of the way on foot, hardly noticing in his tired state that a dark shadow had detached itself from a doorway and was following him. In fact, if it had not been for a sudden cry from Louis's postillion, who had turned his head and seen the menacing state of affairs, the stick which crashed down within a few inches of his head might have hit its target and left John lying fatally injured. As it was, the servant jumped down from his place and gave chase while John recovered his wits.

‘Did you get him?' the Apothecary asked, when the postillion eventually came running back.

‘No, Sir. He lost me in the back streets. But I caught a glimpse of him and he didn't look like a footpadder or cutpurse to me. Too smart, if you take my meaning.'

‘I take it very well,' John answered grimly. ‘Tomorrow's meeting cannot come soon enough in view of this.'

‘You keep a watch on yourself,' said the servant as he returned to the waiting carriage.

‘From now on I shall travel fully armed,' the Apothecary assured him as he hurried into the safety of number two, Nassau Street.

It was as windy as it had been on the day that John Rawlings first set foot in The Devil's Tavern. Great gusts of air blew through the streets of London, rattling the shop signs and blowing gutter detritus into the faces of passers by, while cloaks filled like sails and hats sped aloft irretrievably. On the waterway, passengers were having a hard time of it. The Thames was in a wild fury, waves whipping its surface and flying spume lashing the great ships and riverside houses alike. Travellers were arriving at their destinations green in the face and soaked to the skin, while the sale of restorative spirits in waterside inns rose dramatically.

The Apothecary had heard the tempest start up during the night and had thought how fitting it was that the sad affair was ending as it had begun. But even he, hardy sailor that he was, was not quite prepared for the anger of the river as he and Nicholas Dawkins, acting, or so John supposed, as some kind of bodyguard under the instruction of Sir Gabriel, attempted to board a wherry at Hungerford Stairs.

John's father, very wisely, had set forth with Miss Hodkin on the previous evening and had thus presumably enjoyed a calm and peaceful journey and a good night's sleep. How typical, John had thought fondly, wondering if he would ever become as wise and imperturbable as Sir Gabriel Kent. And now, attempting to get aboard the madly bobbing boat, he heartily wished he had followed the older man's example rather than spend time exposing the reckless prank played out by the Hartfield twins.

Nicholas, lame leg or no, gave a flying leap and managed to land in the wherry. He then held out his hand to John, who accepted it and clambered on board, wondering whether he was getting old. And at London Bridge, where the cataracts between the arches foamed and roared in the wind, the Apothecary conjectured the same thing as he went ashore and walked to the next landing stage, leaving the Muscovite to enjoy the perils of the waterfalls on his own.

The meeting at The Devil's Tavern had been called for midday and John had left plenty of time, considering the weather to be so atrocious that progress might be slow. And so, it appeared, had the Blind Beak. For as John and Nicholas alighted at Pelican Stairs, the Apothecary saw that not far behind them followed another wherry, this one bearing the Magistrate himself, sitting bolt upright, a broad piece of ribbon securing his hat onto his head, whilst Elizabeth Fielding, somewhat pale of complexion, dabbed at her upper lip and clutched the side of the boat for dear life. Scrambling ashore as best he could, John waited politely to help the couple up the steep wooden steps, by now perilously wet and slippery as the waves of the Thames broke over them.

In the event, he was glad that he did. For it was no mean feat for a heavily built man who could not see, to heave himself up the saturated stairway, particularly as, for once, his redoubtable wife was clearly out of sorts. John and Nicholas were straining for all they were worth at Mr Fielding's arms, shouting orders at each other, when Joe Jago suddenly appeared as if from nowhere, called, ‘One last gigg, Beak,' and the Magistrate sprung spryly ashore with only Joe's grasp to guide him. The Apothecary and his assistant looked at one another, shrugged, and went within.

Some of the company had already assembled. Valentine Randolph and Luke Challon were there, this last glaring at Hugh so violently that if looks could have killed, the head of the firm would have fallen dead at his wife's feet. Maud, meanwhile, ignored the situation and busied herself talking to Juliette, pale as ice beneath her burnished hair. Her twin, too, was totally subdued and sat staring moodily out of the window, observing the river which raced a mere few inches below. Slightly removed from all of them and sitting close to the fire was Hesther Hodkin, Sir Gabriel hovering politely close by.

‘Tell me who is already here,' the Blind Beak ordered in a loud whisper, obviously meant to be overheard.

‘Mr Hugh and Mrs Maud Hartfield, Miss Hesther, the geminis and the two employees, Mr Challon and Mr Randolph.'

‘Ex-employee,' Hugh put in icily.

‘There are more coming,' said Julian from the window, his voice flat and dreary sounding. ‘Lydia is sharing a wherry with that friend of Mr Rawlings, and right behind them is Roger … God's teeth!' He broke off.

‘What is it?'

‘He's with Father's strumpet.'

Luke shot to the window. ‘So he is … with Amelia, I mean.' He turned to Julian and they stared at one another blankly.

‘Then we're only lacking Lady Hodkin to be complete.'

‘I dread the thought of seeing her,' Hesther murmured.

‘Courage,' answered Sir Gabriel and patted her shoulder, at which colour came into her cheeks.

‘May I suggest, ladies and gentlemen, that we make our way to the cockfighting room? I shall start without Lady Hodkin if necessary,' Mr Fielding announced.

There was an unenthusiastic murmur of consent and slowly the party began to troop up the staircase, to be followed a few moments later by Lydia and Samuel Swann, she looking radiantly lovely, John thought, her damp clothes clinging to her and her hair wet from the spray. Last of all came Roger and Amelia, very pointedly ignoring one another and taking seats at the opposite ends of the room.

Oh dear, none of this is going to be easy, thought John, as his mind raced over the reputations that were about to be shattered.

The Magistrate, sitting in a sturdy oak carver set before the window, cleared his throat. ‘Firstly, let me thank you for attending here today. I know it has not been a pleasant journey in this roaring gale for those who had to come any distance, or even for anyone who had to cross the river. However, I am aware that you all have a common interest in discovering why Sir William Hartfield was done so cruelly to death, and felt therefore that it was for the general good that the meeting proceeded despite the inclement conditions.' The Blind Beak turned his head as if he were looking round. ‘I don't suppose that many of you realise that it was in this very room, once used for cockfighting, now as a place for bare knuckle contests, that Sir William's body was put for the night by the watermen who dragged it out of the Thames. And it was only by the merest chance that my friend Mr Rawlings, an apothecary, staying in the tavern that evening, happened upon Sir William's corpse and examined it, to find an indentation upon the dead man's skull distinctly bearing the mark of a fox's head. Had it not been for this the murder of your father, employer, brother-in-law, might have gone undetected.'

‘Why is that?' asked Hesther.

‘Because as the body began to bloat, as those that have been in the water generally do, the mark would have vanished and with it the evidence of the blow that was struck.' The Magistrate paused, then said, ‘Mr Rawlings, would you care to go on.'

John took up the story. ‘I examined the mark of the fox's head by candlelight, as Mr Fielding has stated, but when, next morning, I returned to look at it again in the daylight, the body had gone, already taken to the Coroner as I was to discover later. However, the Magistrate soon became convinced that we had a case of murder on our hands and asked me to help him look for the victim's killer.

‘As you already know, Sir William was to have been married to Miss Amelia Lambourn earlier that day, and most of you were in the church ready to make an unpleasant scene should this wedding have taken place. However, the poor man was already dead and therefore unable to keep his appointment, and the marriage party broke up in some confusion.'

Mr Fielding spoke again. ‘Mr Rawlings's task was not an easy one for it was not long before he encountered a veritable maze of lies, deceit and half-truths. Everyone, or so it seemed, had something to hide.' His voice grew harsher. ‘Let me start with the head of the family, Mr Roger Hartfield, a man of cutting fashion and a collector of all that is beautiful and rare. It may surprise those present to know that long before Sir William met her, Mr Roger had already
collected
Miss Lambourn, that they had been lovers for several years, and that it was Roger who introduced his mistress to his father in order to stop Sir William being so miserable.'

‘God's wounds!' exclaimed Luke, who had gone very pale.

‘Further, they planned to continue their adulterous relationship once Amelia was married.'

‘I have never heard anything so disgusting in my life!' boomed a voice from the doorway, and every head turned to see that Lady Hodkin, complete with pug, had arrived. She glared about her menacingly. ‘You're filthy fornicators, the whole damned lot of you. Heaven has punished me indeed by giving me such a detestable family.'