Death of a Fop (Bow Street Consultant series Book 1) (12 page)

Dolly looked to Jane for guidance.

“Would you call her friend?” asked Jane almost inaudible, her lips scarcely moving.

“Nah” said Dorothy “Specially not dressed like a ruddy barber’s pole!”

“Then I would suggest cutting her” said Jane “And leave this to me.”

Jane looked the female up and down.

“Excuse me sir,” she said to the girl’s escort, “but apparently your…..
chere amie
……has poor eyesight. I believe that it is possible to purchase spectacles that might be more suitable adornments for her features than her makeup. I pray you take her away.”

“Sorry ma’am” he said, fiddling with his collar in embarrassment.

The man might look dissipated but he was still a gentleman and recognised a lady when he saw – and heard – one. He raised his hat and hustled his companion away, remonstrating with her.

“But I tell yer, strite up guvnor, I reckernised ‘er; she landed a live one wot work fer… someone I knows” said the shrill voice of the youthful
hetera
, doubtless of the community who haunted Covent Garden; and who had, reflected Jane who knew some at least Greek legends, more in common with the
Eriynes
than with the Graces.

“Clementina is a prigger of purses” said Dorothy. “She steals” she added to translate for Jane’s confused expression. “Give uvver girls a bad name her sort.”

“She sounds like the sort of girl you would do well not to know” said Jane. “A friend of course one must be civil to, and be prepared to be pleasant towards.”

Dorothy stored that snippet away. Being a lady was not then a case of pretending not to know the people one knew before.

“So you treats people like what they’ve treated you?” she asked.

Jane considered.

“Anyone who is ladylike will speak in a pleasant tone and be prepared to be polite to all. If they have been unpleasant or rude, there are ways to be rude back politely without raising voice or using unpleasant words. But it is important to remember those who have done kindnesses and repay kindness with kindness. It is a trifle ill-bred to repay unkindness in the same coin; it is more dignified to ignore it. Unless by acting you may stop them hurting others.”

Dorothy digested; and as the hack arrived with Mr Armitage nodded.

“So them wot took me in I gives ‘ouse room too if they’re on their uppers; and them wot laughed at me fer bein’ new on the game I mince past wiv me nose in the air and they chew on their own liver” she said.

Jane stiffled a sigh.

“That is more or less the way it works” she said.

It was close enough; and the girl had the instincts to repay kindness with kindness. And the desire to make disparagers chew on their own livers – colourful phrase – was one she knew very well and it generally was associated with Mrs Augusta Elton.

And she was eager to share with Mr Armitage that this girl Clementina had said that Dorothy’s lover had worked for someone the light fingered Paphian knew.

Caleb listened with interest.

“It ties in very well with the idea of a whole gang of jewel thieves” he said. “From the casual diver – pickpocket – like this Clementina – to ken crackers and jumpers – that is to say, house breakers and those who climb in windows, all bringing their goods to a clever fence who has employed your late husband to sort out provenance as you suggested. Peevy cove that fence. Clever fellow I should say.”

“I am starting, I fancy, to make some shrewd guesses as to some of the terms” said Jane. “It may be that by the time you have uncovered the whole of this startling business you may not even need to translate any more.”

“I hope we might find out the whole before you become fluent in cant, Mrs Churchill” said Caleb. “I wonder if it is worth bothering to find this Clementina and see if she will talk? Better perhaps to leave her be – a diver is never high up on the pecking order, she is unlikely to know much and the risk of revealing out hand by arresting her is too great for the possible returns.”

“I bow to your superior knowledge, Mr Armitage” said Jane.

“A matter of experience” said Caleb with a deprecating shrug.

Pim Van Diemen was a pink, smooth man whose white satin waistcoat was inevitably as shiny as his face; he smiled with as much display of ivory as Jane’s pianoforte and had a patronising manner of speaking to a new young widow that irritated Jane from the first.

“Of course your dear husband would want his beautiful young wife decked out as finely as is possible within the strictures of mourning; you must look your best for his memory” he said oleaginously, rubbing his pink, smooth hands together. “Perhaps I may show you our finest black amber? Boy, fetch me out a tray!”

“Yerse Mr Van Diemen” said an apprentice more in the tones of Bermondsey than those of the Low Countries.

“He means jet Ma’am,” said Mr Armitage dryly as Jane was raising an eyebrow, “sounds better as black amber see.”

“I see” said Jane.

“Oh I have an excellent mourning brooch for your dear mother, dear Jane, carved out of bog oak” declared Miss Bates “Such a
PRETTY
thing in the shape of a rose and with a silver mount that has a lock of her hair plaited around it. But we have not had Mr Churchill’s body returned to us yet, so we have none of his hair.”

“Never mind, dear aunt,” said Jane, “we shall say goodbye at the funeral tomorrow; I cannot like the sensibility of the habit of keeping locks of hair. It does not suit me. I wish only to look my best for Mr Churchill always liked me to look my best and wear fine jewels.”

“Well the finest jet is certainly elegant and stylish enough for anyone” said Van Diemen as the boy came with the tray of pieces on display on oyster coloured silk that reminded Jane how much she hated oysters even when she was not feeling generally somewhat nauseous. She fought the urge to gag. Van Diemen had not noticed and beamed expansively. “Here you are, some very pretty pieces as might adorn a pretty lady.”

“I cannot think though” said Jane “that I have much business to do with one who is ambiguous in the nature of the jewels that he would display; for so ambiguous a description of jet as black amber might also lead to ambiguities of pricing; so I shall bid you farewell Mr Diemen.”

The Jeweller looked irritated but bowed over her hand as she held it out in farewell.

“I gather his method of gaining custom was not to your liking Mrs Churchill” said Caleb.

“No” said Jane “It was not. I disliked him intensely; which is no reason to consider him guilty. He made me feel as though any jewellery he had a hand in making would somehow sully me to wear.”

“Oh my dear, you are fanciful!” said Miss Bates.

“Quite possibly, Aunt Hetty; but a man who misrepresents one thing will misrepresent another” said Jane. “So I do not discount him, Mr Armitage.”

“He made no reaction to your name or your husband’s liking of jewellery; but a canny fellow would not” said Caleb. “You know it occurs to me that we might have someone join the mourners tomorrow to slum the ken – to look over the house – and it is worth while watching out for any who should show an interest where it might not be expected to be shown.”

“I will ask Fowler to watch too then” said Jane. “We have hired extra footmen and we are serving a cold collation prepared in advance since those who wish to get back home need more to travel on than biscuits; and we have too confections ordered from Gunter’s; so Fowler has only to make sure that the hired footmen do not run off with the silver, which is his current gloomy prediction. I am of the opinion that any who did would not be kept on the books of those ingenious people who arrange such hirelings at short notice.”

“Fowler is a pessimist,” said Caleb, “and probably wise to be so; there are suggestions that there may be those who hire out in such a manner who do so purely for the slumming of kens for thieves though they may not steal themselves.”

“Well that we may look out for” said Jane. “Where do we go next?”

“Mr Poul or Paul Vries” said Caleb.

Poul or Paul Vries was a man in his forties who looked sleek and successful. He had a workshop full of apprentices and underlings.

He appraised Jane.

“Ah, my dear lady; doubtless you have come for mourning jewellery?” he asked. The guttural tones of Holland were almost completely suppressed.

“I have come to look in any case” said Jane. “What would you recommend?”

“I have some pretty pieces in jet; some call it Black Amber, for it may exhibit some of the same odd properties of lifting hair or small pieces of paper if rubbed as amber may do” said the Jeweller. “Some prefer stained horn or bog oak for economy; I can show you some ready made pieces or if you prefer to order any pieces, perhaps incorporating a loved one’s hair……”

“That will not be necessary,” said Jane, “as my husband, Mr Frank Churchill, was a man who loved to see me well dressed and he would have wished me to have attractive jewellery to attend his funeral. Show me one or two pieces.”

The proprietor waved a hand and an apprentice ran up with a tray. This was lined – practically rather than decoratively – with green baize.

“These are the best pieces Mynheer de Vries” he said.

The Jeweller laid them out reverently before Jane; he obviously loved his craft.

“These are all too heavy” said Jane. “I should prefer simpler pieces.”

Another tray was brought. Jane sighed.

“Nothing takes your fancy Ma’am?” asked the jeweller.

“I quite like this brooch carven in the shape of ivy leaves,” said Jane, “but I have to say nothing else quite suits. Still, I shall take that.”

“Oh that is very pretty, Jane” said Miss Bates “What about that collar though?” she indicated an intricate collar wrought of jet beads, some faceted spheres, some faceted bugles.

“Oh no Aunt Hetty; it is definitely in the Egyptian style” said Jane “That is not at all the thing these days. I may not be concerned about being the
dernier cri
but the mode has been out of date for quite three years; it would be positively deedy to be seen in such an old style.”

“I am afraid, Mrs Churchill, that I do not have the sort of clientele that permits me to make the sort of jewellery that your husband must have liked” said Vries with a snap to his voice “Or that evidently pleases you; but the choice in mourning jewellery will always be limited for the more normal stones like emeralds or diamonds are not acceptable.”

“Oh it is not the stones that I am concerned about; merely the style in which they have been set” said Jane sweetly.

She paid for the purchase and they left.

“Joost de Bruin next” she said. “Dear me what a depressing array of carven sensibility that was!”

“You liked him very little more than Pim Van Diemen” said Caleb.

“Perhaps it is merely that they feel that they should put on unctuous airs when dealing with a widow,” said Jane, “but I found both false, patronising and annoying. And this one was positively poisonous that I did not wish to be outmoded.”

Joost de Bruin, another middle aged man, was richly clad in a coat of superfine with rings on his long bony fingers; but that he did not have the figure for a well cut coat did no credit to the tailor’s art. He wore a jewelled fob to presumably be his own proclaimer of fine wares; and his eyes glittered with mean suspicion as he took in Caleb’s rougher appearance; and mentally contrasted Miss Bates’ simple printed cotton gown with Jane’s dyed silk morning gown. He made a sign to an underling who came out ingratiatingly but obviously watching Caleb’s hands at all times.

Jane frowned, angered; but Mr Armitage looked frankly amused. Since he was a Bow Street Runner, she reflected, he probably had every right to be. But it was not funny.

“I wish to see mourning jewellery” she said “My husband liked me turned out well; for his funeral I need something suitable. He liked jewellery. I do not know if he ever purchased any here – Mr Frank Churchill was his name.”

“I cannot say I have heard it” said de Bruin indifferently. He made another sign to one of his underlings who went to fetch a tray of jewellery; this lay on a soft dove grey cloth, less ostentatious and more tasteful, Jane felt, than oyster coloured satin. “Put it down boy; don’t hover!”

“Sorry Mr Broon” muttered the youth.

“DE BRUIN, BOY!” screamed Mr De Bruin. The boy cringed, muttered an apology and fled thankfully back to his work.

Jane examined jewellery.

“I think this is some of the best I have seen so far” said Jane. He might be suspicious and unpleasant but he also had a light touch. “This necklace will do very well I believe; it is not so heavy as some I have seen. I like the use of silver Indian beads amongst the jet; it is plain and simple and stylish. I shall have it.”

The beads were similar to those in the outmoded collar in the previous shop but had been set in a more modern style, definitely lifted by the inclusion of the few silver beads.

They left after she had paid.

“Well he was not unctuous!” laughed Caleb.

“I still did not like him” said Jane. “Will we visit the workshops where the two journeymen work?”

“No; I shall make enquiries,” said Caleb, “asking questions about them is less likely to cause problems than questioning master jewellers.”

“I cannot think of a way I might seek out the bulb importer,” said Jane, “nor yet the gentleman.”

“Ah, Mr Maarten Van Rijn, gent, I have received some information about” said Caleb. “And I believe we might discard him as a suspect; in light of Mr Churchill’s comment that he were NOT a tulip of fashion. Mr Van Rijn is said to be a very smart gentleman when in town though of ruddy complexion not universally admired; but he is not in town at the moment as he is overseeing the ploughing of his lands. He is married to one Madelaine, daughter of Sir Richard Cribbins who is said to be a most respectable man. I am certainly not about to anger someone who is on friendly terms with judges and other mighty people to ask questions about his son-in-law: who has not been in town for months. He is on my list for maintaining a small town house. I would, by the way, point out of Mr de Bruin that those who see dishonesty in others may often be less than honest themselves.”