Death of a Fop (Bow Street Consultant series Book 1) (15 page)

Well he was buried; and if the worst came to the worst she might sell this fine house, or again, let it for the season, and perhaps rather than being a governess she might sew. The wages were lower but the abuses less. And with the experience she had gained copying modish gowns she might get a position with a
modiste
not merely take in sewing. If she let the house complete with Mrs Ketch, Fowler and Molly they would keep their positions; and though it would break her heart to send her away, Frances might go with Annie to stay with the Westons. Yes, there was a way around every potential problem. And the problem would be in the way that Mr Churchill took his nephew’s death, troubles, and hasty funeral. She had written to him straight away on Monday; it must travel two hundred miles. That would take some twenty five hours; the full day round. He would have got the letter Tuesday evening. Of course he would want to post down; he had his own chaise, he would probably however hire post horses at each inn for a speedier rate of travel but he would not travel day and night as the mail did. Indeed he would almost certainly not set forth until the Wednesday; being elderly he would not travel more than six hours a day for he was not fond of the motion; and he would not travel on the morrow, being Sunday; so in all probability he would arrive on Monday. It would be embarrassing if he
did
push on hard enough to have arrived just in time to miss the funeral today; but if he did, that was just too bad. Jane was quite out of charity with Uncle Jasper, who should have apprised her that his nephew was in financial difficulties.

She might now see what difficulties Fowler had encountered whilst the footmen – one less than there should be she noted – cleared away.

She left the solicitors and clerks enjoying their meal at the expense of another and slipped away.

Caleb grinned at Jane; he and Fowler had a grimy and well trussed footman between them.

“Ah, Mrs Churchill” said Caleb “Thanks to the vigilance of Mr Fowler here, we have a would-be thief; whom Fowler caught creeping out of the coal cellar.”

“What did he think to steal in there, Mr Armitage?” asked Jane.

Caleb chuckled.

“Ah, not so much to steal nowise” he said “But dahn in the dark he found a certain trapdoor, with certain bolts on it which he thought to loosen and draw back; so later his villyunous friends might come in to prig anythink wot took their fancy, ain’t that so, Jimmy boy? James Ripon is what this ‘ere dubber of jiggers, that’s an opener of doors, is called; account o’ how Mr Fowler has all their names to sign off that they came and did their work satisfactory-like. Which nowise this cully seems to have done; looks like he’s definitely on the ken-slumming lay.”

“I don’t understand all that cant” said James Ripon sullenly. “If you arsts me lidy, him wot speak the cant is the villain, tryin’ to put it onto me.”

“Hoh well you prize rogue, let me put you right about!” said Fowler “It being me what had followed you about sneakin’ into rooms you had no business to poke into; and then into the coal cellar. And Mr Armitage here tumbled to what you was doin’ in there, me bein’ innocent enough to think you had been light fingered and were hidin’ stuff in there. Well, I nearly locked him in; and I’m right glad I didn’t, Madam, for he’d of slipped right through the hatch!”

“What did you do?” asked Jane “And really I am filled with admiration for your resourcefulness, Fowler”.

Fowlers immobile face actually cracked into a grin.

“I ‘it the b-asket on the ‘ead wiv a skillet” he said, losing all pretensions to his well cultivated accent as he strove not to swear in front of the mistress of the house.

“Oh very well done” said Jane. “Have you managed to find out if he is working alone or a part of some thieving gang?”

“He
says
he’s working alone” said Caleb “But I ain’t sure I believe him; he ain’t got the tread of a man as can crack a crib and nab trinkets, moveables and such withaht that the ‘ole ‘ouse wakes up. A caw-handed lolpoop he is; or he was when he was handing round eats earlier, clumsy and lazy you’d say.”

“He’s also the fellow who was ogling up Juliet and spoilin’ her reputation so he is Madam” said Mrs Ketch.

“Ah, apparently a new way of, er, slumming the ken” said Jane gravely.

Caleb grinned.

“And about all he’s good for;
he
ain’t no bowman-prig. That’s a top flight thief” he said.

“Mr Armitage, I don’t think you should be teaching Mrs Churchill cant” said Fowler disapprovingly.

“No, likely I should not” said Caleb.

“I find it quite fascinating actually,” said Jane, “when you get into the swing of the argot, Mr Armitage you might as well not even be speaking English.”

“That’s the general idea, Ma’am” said Caleb. “So that swell–coves and swell-morts don’t understand and then they can’t whiddle the scrap.”

“Tell anyone?” guessed Jane.

“Precisely” said Caleb.

“What do we do, hand him over to the watch?” asked Jane.

“I think so” said Caleb “But since there’s such a lot to do he might as well be locked away for now and we’ll see to it in the morning…. If we can be bothered on the Sabbath. Locked into one of the storerooms you don’t use much ma’am, he won’t be able to cause any harm; Fowler and me will search him as well in case he has any bessies, that’s lockpicks. Unless he feels like being a milch-kine to give up his chums? No? Ah well” as Ripon shook his head.

Then the prisoner spat an epithet at him and Caleb cuffed him, roaring in anger,

“You slubberdegullion; Mrs Ketch, I pray you some soap for his filthy mouth” whereupon, when that worthy promptly handed over the jar of soft soap he proceeded to well soap Ripon’s mouth until no epithet could arise from it.

“Effective” said Jane.

“
Army
tactic” said Caleb “Not that we was a mealy-mouthed bunch nowise; but them as swore in front of orficer’s wives, well that were different; and thought themselves lucky if the swell mort didn’t know what they was saying, account of that’d mean a flogging. C’mon you; Fowler and me will see you abram and check your duds and anywhere else fer that matter like the northwest passage” he added ominously to Ripon, pulling the false footman to his feet and propelling him firmly out of the door. Fowler took off his jacket meaningfully and started rolling up his sleeves as he followed Caleb.

“Dear me,” said Jane to Mrs Ketch, “I believe I shall be glad to remain in ignorance of what they intend.”

“Well Madam, that’s what I feel too, but I can’t say I feel much sympathy for that nasty piece of work” said Mrs Ketch.

“Nor I” said Jane, reflecting that Ripon was either the result of a very long coincidence or was associated with those who had tortured and killed her husband. And whatever her feelings about Frank it was a matter of principle.

Mr Chorleigh was looking around for Jane when she returned to the reception room.

“Ah, Mrs Churchill; I wondered where you might be” he said. Though it was a statement it was almost worded as a question. Jane bridled.

“Mr Chorleigh, when a lady who is, as I wrote in my last communication to you, in a delicate condition and who has been burying her husband, leaves the room for a short while I consider it ill-bred of anyone to make comment or draw attention to the fact” she said coldly. “As it happens I had also to deal with a small domestic crisis; one of the hired footmen was caught stealing. My man Fowler and Mr Armitage are seeing to the matter but correctly Fowler felt I should be apprised of the occurrence. Which is, frankly, nothing that needs discussing with you either as the Churchill solicitor nor as Frank’s employer. You are of course wishful to take your leave; thank you for coming to attend the funeral, your support has been appreciated. One of the footmen here will get your cloak” she made a sign to one of the men in attendance upon the guests who ran off.

Mr Chorleigh had intended to lecture Mrs Churchill on a number of matters – not least leaving her guests – but dubbed ill-bred and effectively nosy he could only gasp and take the firmly proffered little hand to kiss, by which time he was being enveloped in his cloak and his beaver and cane handed to him by a footman and Jane had carefully drifted away.

Mr Chorleigh made her itch to do something unladylike.

StClair Despard grinned at her.

“Nice handling of the old man, Ma’am” he said.

“Why Mr Despard I fail to grasp your meaning” said Jane demurely.

He gave a crack of laughter which he hastily turned into a cough; laughing at a funeral, and before the widow at that, was not at all the thing!

“Why Mrs Churchill, I would say that you are a complete hand; had you any ideas about the writing your husband was doing?”

“Mr Despard, that is a matter for the officer of Bow Street; and not to be generally discussed” said Jane “I appreciate your curiosity; but unless Mr Armitage is prepared to share information with you, you must, I fear, learn to curb it.”

“I shall be dished in that desire then” said Mr Despard gloomily. “He’s close-mouthed; for I already asked him.”

“Then to try to gain information from me was highly improper” said Jane.

“Of course it was, ma’am; I’m in training to be a solicitor” said Mr Despard “No trick too low;
fiat justiciam ruat caelorum
or as we mistranslate it, so justice be done however low the worms under the sky may crawl.”

“You are a witty man Mr Despard” said Jane “But if you will take advice, do not permit wit to outweigh judgement.”

He looked at her thoughtfully.

“That is a most profound statement ma’am; one I shall endeavour to always remember” he said. “I shall be relieving you of my presence now; your servant” and he carried her hand to his lips for a briefly punctilious salute.

“That young would-be black-box kept you amused” said Caleb to Jane as the other clerks filed out in rapid succession. “Did you tell him anything?”

“Only to apply to you as the proper person to know what to tell him” said Jane with a modest, downcast look. “He is an amusing rattle; when he grows up enough to learn discretion and tact he will perhaps make a good solicitor.”

“Oh” said Caleb. “I was going to warn you that he was a little immature; but I see you realise that.”

“Why Mr Armitage, did you think I was
flirting
?” said Jane. “And on the day of my late husband’s funeral?”

Caleb flushed.

“I – I do apologise” he said.

Jane laid a hand on his arm.

“I should not tease you my dear friend” she said “But I feel I do need a touch of levity to deal with this awful day; and I should apologise to you for doing so. For in other circumstances one might have read your behaviour as showing jealousy.”

“I’m damnably jealous, Jane-girl” said Mr Armitage “And all I want is to protect you from unctuous chaw-bacons like Chorleigh. And please forget I spoke, on this day of all days.”

“Mr Armitage….” said Jane, feeling a little light headed, “I think we should discuss other, safer topics.”

“Yes ma’am” said Caleb.

But she had not given him a set-down for using her name.

Jane was extremely glad to get to bed; it had been a tiring day, and made more so by Frances, who had sensed, in the way small children do, the tension in the atmosphere. In the end Jane had asked Annie to fetch Mr Armitage to the nursery to bounce Frances about until she was giggling wildly; and then the baby was happy enough to take her bath without screaming and going stiff and went to bed readily. Jane had apologised.

“She knows I feel tense and blue-devilled; I expect it makes her fear I will drop her in the water” she said. “Annie does most things for her; but she is my daughter and I wanted some time with her; I have not seen her all day with this miserable funeral.”

“Why Mrs Churchill, consider the impropriety of a
merry
funeral” quipped Caleb with a perfectly straight face.

She had laughed a little and sighed.

“In truth, though I am glad it is all over, I fear a little what Mr Churchill might say about my not waiting for him” she said.

“Tell him to go to the devil; if he’d been a decent father-figure to his nephew he’d have posted down to find out why the cub was in such debt in the first place and put him right-about” said Caleb forcefully.

“You are quite right, Caleb….Armitage” said Jane. “Oh
how
I loathe confrontations; still if he cuts Frances and me off without a penny, we might raise enough to rent a small house and enough to live on just by letting this house; and I can always sew.”

“You will not sew, Mrs Churchill” said Caleb forcefully. “I will not see you be a slavey to those damned supercilious old crows!”

“Mr Armitage; it is not right that we should discuss yet the alternative that you are on the verge of suggesting” said Jane. “And I am far better able to keep my self respect by sewing than as a governess. I thank you for the aid with Frances; and I bid you good night for I too shall retire early.”

He bowed and left her; and thus Jane was lying in bed, extremely glad of the soft goose feather mattress and the sweet fresh aroma of the lavender-scented linen sheets caressing her tired body.

But she did not sleep.

The big, ungainly figure of Caleb Armitage would insist on intruding before her eyes when she closed them; and the errant and shocking thought that his strong arms would be extremely comforting.

Jane dozed fitfully; but was awake in an instant when she heard a noise downstairs. Her bedroom was at the front; Frank liked to be on the street and she had given in, though she would have preferred the quiet of a room overlooking the garden that would remind her of Highbury. And she had had far better things to do than to worry about changing her sleeping chamber. She pulled on a robe and thrust her feet into her dainty slippers and hastily sparked the flint and tinder to light her candle.

Caleb Armitage was coming down the stairs as she emerged from her chamber. He held a finger to his lips and indicated that she should return to her own room. Jane stood back to let him pass, but she shook her head.