Death of a Fop (Bow Street Consultant series Book 1) (10 page)

Caleb nodded.

“Thank you for confirming my view; you know Mr Churchill and his reactions as of course I do not. I have narrowed down the list to three master jewellers, two journeyman jewellers – who might be involved though I doubt either might be the one Mr Churchill spoke to - a gentleman, and an importer of Dutch bulbs. I have included the last because he has much traffic with the continent; and that means that the passing of jewels back and forth might be possible, perhaps hidden in packets of bulbs. It is perhaps fanciful but I did not wish to ignore the idea.”

“Far better that you should consider every possibility” said Jane. “What of their initials?”

“None directly agree” said Caleb “So I thought it best to include all; and it is a very rounded and flourishing signature of initials; and I felt I had to consider I had read the initials wrongly – or indeed that the Dutchman
loaned
your husband the money to buy back his own vowels from whoever actually held them, rather than having bought them out for himself. Moreover the Dutch in England often make small changes to the names they use in business whilst signing themselves by their true names; anglicising the spelling, leaving out a ‘de’ or’van’. Here is the list.”

He passed it to her.

“And the name of the importer of bulbs, being Piet-Dirk Vandervalk is interesting in light of his initials being PDV” said Jane.

“Yes; though I have wondered if the P might be a D or an R; which is why I left on those two lesser artisans, Ruud de Witte – a V might be a very close W – and Dennis Voeteli who might be de Voeteli; or have two Christian names and use only one save in signature” said Caleb.

“The second letter is surely a D; if the first were, we should not mistake it for that, having another D to compare it to. An R I grant you though” said Jane. “And these other, Master jewellers; Poul, also called Paul Vries, Pim Van Diemen – yes, the order of the initials we might have misread in the florid monogram of initials – and Joost De Bruin. He is there just because he is a Master Jeweller and Dutch?”

“Yes” said Caleb “Because of the tentative theory about Mr Churchill having a loan from his mysterious friend.”

She nodded.

“And the gentleman, Maarten Van R-I-J-N –
how
do you pronounce that?”

“As I understand it you say it ‘Ryan’” said Caleb “These Dutchmen seem to use their J as an I or a Y. Rum language but there you are; not so heathen to hear spoke as what French is.”

“Ah, but I have learned French and so do not find it so strange” said Jane “I find these names quite odd to look at. What are Dutchmen doing in London?”

“As I understand it many of them – or their parents – fled as émigrés when France occupied their homeland in 1796 I think it was; and any who might be reasonably supposed to be accused of being aristos by those murdering Frenchies did the sensible thing and got out.”

“I suppose that would be the sensible thing to do” said Jane “I fear I am somewhat ignorant of foreign affairs; I am well acquainted with Geography and globe work, for such things I should have been required to teach as a governess. But a girl is not of course trained in the understanding of politics.”

“I think, Mrs Churchill, you have a superior understanding of so many things that a small deficiency is easily overlooked – though I fancy most men of your own class would consider it an advantage not to have a woman who understood politics and foreign affairs, for then she does not know enough to find that most statesmen are but risible creatures” said Caleb.

“Why Mr Armitage! What an interesting reason that men should prefer to keep women in ignorance! Are they so afraid that we might spoil their games of political intrigue by applying the common sense of a good housewife?”

“Why, yes ma’am, I fear you have the sad truth of it” laughed Caleb “Though I wish the common sense of the good housewife might find some way we might now reasonably proceed.”

“The best thing seems to me to be to get a look at all of these jewellers” Jane said.

“Easier said than done; if I question an innocent man, then I shall be in trouble” said Caleb.

“Why Mr Armitage; we shall employ subterfuge” said Jane gaily. “After all, shall I not require mourning jewellery for the next year?”

“Mrs Churchill, you really are an amazing woman!” said Caleb fervently.

Jane was glad to introduce Caleb Armitage to George Knightley; she thought that there was much about each that was alike, an instinct for mannerly behaviour and an objectivity that transcended social prejudices of all kinds that led to a degree of tolerance that was quite remarkable. Mr Knightley had been so kind, for not only had he managed to find a buyer for the horse, and at a fair price, and found Palmer a position, he had also arranged the selling of the spare fodder through an arrangement he had made with Mr Chorleigh who was to arrange to rent the mews to someone in the neighbourhood who might be looking for extra stabling.

“I have also had Mr Chorleigh organise the funeral arrangements for Saturday; he will take care of the expense too. In light of the unfortunate and violent way that Frank met his death he has agreed with me that a simple funeral should take place without the body returning to the house but picked up from Bow Street by the undertakers. The least you have to do the better; the mourners must return to your house of course but a simple light repast will be all that is called for; many just serve wine and biscuits” said Mr Knightley.

“You are very good” said Jane. “I should not have known how to begin to organise a funeral in London! And I cannot think that a body already immersed in water should travel to Enscombe the way Mrs Churchill’s body was transported; the putrefaction would be untenable even at this time of year and in such inclement weather. Indeed it is not impossible to fear late snow; and it would be unreasonable to expect any carrier to be snowed up with a body of some considerable odour.”

“Quite so” said Mr Knightley. “As Mr Churchill is aware of his nephew’s death, if he set off the moment he heard he may be in time for the funeral if he travels post; but to be quite honest, Jane, I should say that a rapid interment is more important than his feelings. I expect that Mr and Mrs Weston will wish to travel up to London; but Mrs Weston will not wish to be away from her daughter too long and will doubtless wish to return the same day. You will be put to no trouble putting the Westons up.”

“It would be no trouble; they have been all that is good to me,” said Jane, “but I would not wish to leave Frances overnight so I quite enter into dear Mrs Weston’s feelings. Thank you for all that you have done!”

Jane hardly had to make conversation at dinner, because Mr Knightley drew Mr Armitage out to talk about his work; though Mr Armitage glossed over a few aspects that he said were not fit subjects while people were eating – what a delicacy of feeling and nice appreciation of the feelings of others he had! thought Jane warmly.

Even Miss Bates was more interested in listening than talking; Mr Armitage had a fund of stories, most wittily told and generally very funny about law enforcement; though Jane could see, as Miss Bates did not, that there were a few where he missed points out that were likely rather more dark than funny. Mr Knightley nodded approval as he lightly skipped over the deeds performed by a highwayman to tell how he had been discovered not by betrayal or clever work but by sheer bad luck on his part, and good luck on the part of the officer of the law who took him up, in that a hole in the highwayman’s greatcoat pocket led to a few small trinkets leading a glittering trail to his hideout; and when he demanded to know who had given him up was told by the laconic runner, ‘your tailor’.

Jane laughed out loud at that.

“Oh my dear, what will the servants think that you laugh and poor Frank scarcely cold?” asked Miss Bates, who had herself laughed.

“The servants know well enough that our marriage was almost a sham” said Jane. “Mr Armitage will tell you himself there are no secrets in a house with servants.”

“Indeed,” said Caleb, “I actually came upon one household where the chamber maid was selling copies of the poems her mistress’ paramour sent, to all the young men in the locale to send to
their
inamoratas. The matter came to light – and this is where we came in – that one young man was too innocent to read the rather….explicit …..allegories and was shot by his beloved’s brother. He did recover; but he felt injured enough to lay a suit against the brother for assault. I was involved in that case and I had to mark it unresolved – in law that is; because I managed to bring all parties to negotiate and showed how the young lover was too callow to know what he was plagiarising so happily. They sent me a piece of the wedding cake which I thought very civil” he added.

“And so I should hope!” said Jane. “For you missed out on the reward for an arrest to sort out their lives for them; and reconcile all parties rather than pursue the vigour of the law! I am very impressed that you are permitted leeway to pursue justice rather than the law!”

“Oh strictly we are not,” said Caleb, “but I, er, failed to find any evidence. And as the wounded youth withdrew his plaint, there was no more to be said. Silly cub!”

“Did you also warn the chamber maid?” asked Mr Knightley.

“Oh yes,” said Caleb. “
she
had no idea of the classical references either so I rang a peal over her head about how strictly speaking the selling of such material made her in law a fallen woman and suggested that if she did not know enough to recognise the contents she should not be continuing to sell it.”

“I wager that chastened her” said Mr Knightley who had a shrewd idea that Caleb would have put the matter more bluntly to the foolish maidservant. “You have acquired a classical education?”

“A rather indifferent one, sir; I had some instruction from my gentleman during the times that the war was tedious, which was, as you might say, better than when it was altogether too exciting; and I have pursued other reading since. I have small Latin only but I have read translations of the myths and legends of Greece and Rome, and a rum lot some of them were and that’s definitely not a fit subject in front of ladies” he added.

“There are a few rather, er, warm stories in the classics” agreed Mr Knightley.

“I appear to have missed the more interesting parts then” said Jane mildly.

“You don’t want to read any nasty stories about heathen gods, dear Jane” said Miss Bates. “I cannot think that it is in any wise seemly; and it would fret your delicate constitution too to study too much you know! Why when you were a little girl I always worried to see your nose always in a book, and such a poor pale little thing you were! You should know, Mr Armitage, she took every cold going, poor little thing, and had to be lying down inside too much, without wanting to stay in to read when she was well! And she is looking quite ill over this business of Frank; we must go for a walk tomorrow in a park my dear!”

“I must go shopping for black fabric, Aunt Hetty” said Jane “And black jewellery; perhaps Mr Armitage would loan us his protection and presence?”

“I should be delighted” said Caleb.

Mr Knightley shot him a look; and Caleb closed one eye in a slow wink and gave half a nod towards Jane. Mr Knightley nodded almost imperceptibly. This was Jane’s play; and within Mr Armitage’s duty, he interpreted.

He did not like the idea of Jane being mixed up in the enquiries over her husband’s death; but Jane had always been quietly, secretively stubborn and headstrong. And perhaps it would help her to BE involved; for though Jane might manage to sit, like patience on a monument, if one might borrow from Shakespeare, he knew it irked her.

“Will you play for us before I leave, Jane?” he asked “We have missed your playing in Highbury.”

“Cuh, Missus Churchill, do you play real music?” asked Dolly, who had listened wide eyed to Caleb’s anecdotes without any interruption.

Jane smiled.

“I love to play,” she said, “though I have not touched the pianoforte for a long while; I have not had the heart before.”

She reflected that another of her little rebellions had been to refuse to play anything but ‘Greensleeves’ for Frank when he told her curtly to play for him; a song about betrayal of love.

She sat down at the grand piano, an extravagance at quite thirty five guineas and bought to assuage Frank’s pride that would not permit an upright in the parlour where those who saw it might think he was cheap.

Lovingly she touched the keys; and then she was lost in Mozart’s ‘Eine Kleine Nachtmusic’ and then Beethoven’s ‘Fur Elise’ and Bach’s ‘Toccata and Fugue in D minor’; the music she had loved before Frank’s courtship had drawn her to play lighter, more frivolous pieces. The music transported her and she quite forgot the company and the reason that they were there.

“Delightful,” said Mr Knightley sincerely as she paused to collect herself, “but it has tired you; I apologise for asking.”

“No Mr Knightley; it was time I rediscovered music,” said Jane, “thank you for urging me to make the effort.”

“You are just so…….. brilliant!” sighed Dolly who had been about to add a qualification until Caleb glared at her.

“That was sublime” said Caleb soberly. He had never heard anything like it; he was not someone who generally would have considered attending concerts even if he was likely to be welcome at the more prestigious ones; the nearest he had come was hearing a band play in Vauxhall gardens, which might be good, bad or indifferent. It was the feeling in Mrs Churchill’s playing that set this aside; as though she had set all her soul into this. As, he reflected, she probably had; and he wished that Frank Churchill were not dead that he might have the pleasure of knocking down one who had trammelled and almost extinguished the spark of this lovely and talented lady.

Miss Bates was busy telling him how talented Jane was, and how she loved to play, between adjuring Jane to go early to bed for Mr Knightley would not mind for she was done to a cow’s thumb.

And Jane meekly said good night and took herself off, Dolly slipping an arm into hers and talking nineteen to the dozen about how wonderful Mrs Churchill was in so many ways and begging the privilege of helping her to bed.