Lord Ashford's Wager (11 page)

“Oh, I know it makes no logical sense, Jo. But knowing that doesn’t change my feelings.” Tony stood up. “Now, you must leave before your parents discover what you’ve been up to. I am sure I will be released at the hearing. After all, there is no real evidence against me.”

“But even if they let you go, Tony, you are ruined unless someone finds the real killer.”

Tony looked at her, his eyes devoid of emotion. “Yes, I suppose I am. But I find I don’t care. All that I care about is gone…Ned, Claudia…Ashford. I intend to go home and continue the fight for Ashford Ned’s way. Maybe that will make up for some of this.”

Joanna looked stricken. “And what of our friendship, Tony? Does that count for nothing?”

“My dearest Jo, it is so much a part of my life that I assumed you would take the importance for granted,” he said softly.

“No one likes to be taken for granted, Tony.”

“You are quite right. I would offer you my hand, Jo, but I am filthy and my clothes smell and I don’t want to come close. But I am so very grateful to you for coming. Your visit will get me through the next few days.”

Tony opened the door and summoned the gatesman. “I will wait here. Please go with Lady Joanna and summon her a cab home. Here.” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out enough money to pay both the turnkey and the cabdriver. Joanna protested, but he insisted. “It is the least I can do, Jo, to repay your generosity.”

But when Joanna was asked her destination by the cab-driver, instead of giving him her address, she directed him to Bow Street. And when her abigail gasped, she only said, “Hush, Sally, and I’ll give you an extra allowance this month.”

When they arrived at the Bow Street Court, Joanna went straight to the magistrate’s clerk, who looked shocked to see a lady in the building.

“I understand it is possible for a private citizen to hire a Runner?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Well, that is what I wish to do, then. What is the usual fee?”

“A guinea a week, my lady, plus expenses.”

“And do you have any recommendations?”

The clerk looked nonplussed for a moment. “Uh, what sort of investigation are you talking about, ma’am?”

“Murder,” Joanna replied bluntly.

The clerk’s eyes opened wide. He had not thought it more than a case of a philandering husband. Although, come to think about it, the lady wore no wedding ring.

“Murder, is it? Well, then McManus or Naylor is your man. Except McManus is in Kent, so…”

“Naylor it is?” said Joanna with a touch of dry humor in her voice. “And where would I find Mr. Naylor?”

“At this time of day, he is usually at the Garrick’s Head having a pint.”

Joanna’s face fell. It was one thing to come to Bow Street. It was quite another to enter a public house. And she could hardly send Sally. She should have brought a footman with her instead.

The clerk saw her consternation. “Don’t you worry, my lady. I can send someone over for you. Let me show you into a quiet room, and I will send Naylor in to you.”

Joanna gave him a grateful smile, and pulling at the long-suffering Sally, followed the clerk down the hall.

“Well, this is better than the visitors’ quarters at Newgate,” she said with a laugh.

“Never tell me you were there, my lady,” the clerk said, horrified.

“We just came from there. And my errand is urgent.”

“Yes, yes. I will send Jake over right away. Just you wait here.”

“Your parents would die, my lady, did they know you was here,” said Sally, finally driven to protest.

“But they won’t know, Sally,” Joanna said patiently. “Not unless you tell them.”

“Of course I won’t, my lady, not even if you were to take away my afternoon off. I am just trying to say that this is not a place for a lady to be,” Sally replied, indignant that her mistress would doubt her loyalty.

They waited a few minutes and then there was a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” said Joanna.

A slight, average-height, rather nondescript man entered the room.

“Lady Joanna Barrand?”

“You must be Jake. I take it you could not find Mr. Naylor? Perhaps I could leave a note asking him to call on me?”

The man grinned. “I am Gideon Naylor, my lady.”

“You can’t be,” Joanna protested without thinking.

“But I am. I understand you wish to hire me for an investigation?”

“Yes, but it is a murder investigation. Perhaps I should wait until Mr. McManus is back from the country.” Joanna realized what she had said. “I apologize if I sound insulting, Mr. Naylor, but I need someone…”

“Large and threatening?” he asked humorously.

“I had expected a Runner to be more distinctive,” she admitted. “Of course, the clerk did recommend you also.”

“Yes, well, it has been said of me as well as McManus that I can be ‘mild with the mild and terrible with the terrible,’ Lady Joanna. But if you wish to wait a few days…”

“Oh, dear, I have been very rude, I know, but I do not have the time to wait, so I suppose you will do.” Joanna laughed. “That was not much better, was it, Mr. Naylor. I am sorry, but I am quite distraught over the situation of a dear friend. Please sit down.”

Naylor sat. There was a sharp knock on the door, and the Runner said: “I have taken the liberty to ask Jake to bring us some tea. I hope that is all right?”

“Why, yes, thank you.” Joanna was grateful for his thoughtfulness, and realized that a stimulant was just what she needed.

The door opened and a hulking brute of a man set down a tray. He looked as if he could lift Naylor up with one hand as easily as he carried the tray, but his manner was very respectful.

After he left, Naylor looked over at Joanna and lifted his eyebrows inquiringly.

She laughed. “Yes. All right. That is what I thought a Runner would look like.”

“Jake is a very useful man to have around a courtroom,” said Naylor, as he poured the tea. “And is often helpful in subduing the occasional suspect. But he has no talent for investigation, my lady. And I assume that is what you want.”

Joanna took a sip of her tea. It was surprisingly good and the warmth and strength of it relaxed her. It had been a horrible afternoon. She had never seen Newgate before, much less visited. Nor had she ever imagined she would be sitting in a questioning room drinking tea with a Bow Street Runner. Good tea at that, she thought to herself with a smile.

There was a quiet air of competence about Mr. Naylor, she had to admit. As the tea relaxed some of her tension, sitting with him was beginning to do the same. He seemed willing to sit there, sipping tea, waiting all afternoon, if need be, to hear her story.

“I need someone to investigate a murder of which an old friend has been unjustly accused,” she finally stated.

“And what murder would that be, my lady?” Naylor was sure he knew, for he didn’t think Lady Joanna Barrand was here on behalf of some lower-class criminal accused of murdering a prostitute, for instance. The only recent murder he knew she might be concerned with was the one for which he’d arrested Lord Ashford.

“The victim was Lady Fairhaven, Mr. Naylor.”

“And Lord Ashford is a friend of yours?”

“Then you know of the case,” Joanna said eagerly.

“You might say so. I was the one who arrested Lord Ashford.”

Joanna was taken aback. “How can I hire you then if you are convinced of Tony’s guilt.”

“I was the Runner assigned, Lady Joanna. My responsibilities were to investigate and make an arrest on the basis of available evidence. There was enough to incriminate Lord Ashford. That does not mean I am entirely convinced of his guilt. Only that I had to do my duty.”

“Then you don’t believe he did it?”

“I didn’t say that. But I do agree that the case warrants some investigation. Even if—especially if—he is acquitted at the hearing.”

“Is there any chance he might be?” Joanna asked.

“It is possible. It was certainly reasonable to arrest him. But to bind a peer over for trial? That might take something like an eyewitness, which we don’t have in this case.”

“What exactly do you have?”

“As far as we know, Lord Ashford was the last person to see Lady Fairhaven alive. We also know that she had refused him money which he desperately needed. And given his experience as a soldier, he had the expertise to kill her the way someone did.”

“I thought she was strangled. Surely anyone could have done that.”

Naylor leaned over and placed his hands on Joanna’s neck. His thumbs rested on both sides of her throat and she could feel her pulse quicken as he pressed gently. “There are arteries on each side of the neck, my lady. A little pressure from me, and you would lose consciousness. A little more, and you would never regain it. And a soldier is more likely to know this.”

Naylor was very gentle in his little demonstration, but Joanna could feel the strength behind his hands. All of a sudden, she realized that it was true: this small, mild man was quite capable of being terrible with the terrible.

She swallowed nervously and he dropped his hands.

“You yourself seem quite expert, Mr. Naylor,” she said, her outward calm not betraying how shaken she was. What must it have been like for Claudia in those last few seconds of life?

“I was with the Forty-seventh Foot, my lady. So, yes, I have had some experience. As has Lord Ashford.”

“It does sound damning, hearing you recite the evidence. But I know Tony Varden. I know he cared about Lady Fairhaven. I know he could never have killed her, no matter how desperate he was.”

“Gamblers can be driven to crime just like drunkards, Lady Joanna. I have seen it before. In a moment of panic, who knows what Lord Ashford might have done?”

“But if he
didn’t
do it, then the real murderer is getting away! Tony says he and Claudia came to an understanding. That she gave him the money freely. That…” Joanna hesitated, because it was so painful. “That when he left, they were betrothed.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t believe him?”

“He was quite convincing, Lady Joanna. But you see, there are no witnesses to the reconciliation, only to the quarrel. Of course,” Naylor went on, almost to himself, “that in itself is interesting.”

“Why?”

“Because the footman would have been able to tell us if Lord Ashford left looking like a newly betrothed man. If Lady Fairhaven appeared happy or angry or disappointed. But he has disappeared.”

“What do you mean,” demanded Joanna.

“Lady Fairhaven had hired a new under-footman only a few weeks ago. The butler instructed him to remain at the door, and see Lady Fairhaven up to her room. But when I got there, I found that this Jim had vanished, taking nothing with him. Apparently he had not even gone up to his room that night.”

“Then maybe
he
did it,” said Joanna, hope rising in her voice.

“But why?”

“For the money, of course.”

“Perhaps. Although we don’t know how much money Lady Fairhaven had in the drawer. And Jim may be lying dead in a gutter somewhere for all we know. At any rate, the motive for him is less clear.”

“Isn’t there anyone else?”

“An intruder. There has been a rash of burglaries in the last few months. But the men I know who work that neighborhood are not usually violent.” Naylor hesitated. “There is the new Lord Fairhaven…”

Joanna shuddered.

“You don’t like the earl, I take it?” commented Naylor with a smile.

“No, there is something very cold about him. I could well imagine him as the murderer,” said Joanna.

“Unfortunately, Lady Joanna, your dislike of Lord Fairhaven’s temperament is not evidence. However, a little investigation into the background of the late Lord Fairhaven’s will might be in order. And a search for this missing footman. If you still wish to hire me, I will take on the case.”

Joanna’s face lit up. “Thank you, Mr. Naylor. I cannot tell you how much this means to me. Even if Tony is released, he will be tainted by suspicion and hounded by the gossips unless the true murderer is found. He is an old and dear friend,” she said softly. “He suffered enough from his father and brother’s deaths. You will begin immediately, I hope,” she added, standing up and summoning Sally.

“Yes. Lord Ashford is fortunate to have such a devoted friend, Lady Joanna,” said Naylor, as he showed the women out.
And if I were a gambler myself,
he thought, as he handed Joanna into a cab,
I
would bet that Lord Ashford has much more than your friendship, my lady.

* * * *

Luckily, when Joanna returned home, her father was at his club and her mother was taking an afternoon nap. At some point she would probably have to tell them about her visits, but today she was not up to it. As soon as she reached her room, Sally helped her out of her gown.

“Burn it, Sally,” said Joanna, as she stepped out of it. “I may be imagining things, but to me, it smells like Newgate.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And Sally,” Joanna added.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Thank you for accompanying me. I know it was distressing for you, but I couldn’t have done it alone. I appreciate your loyalty.”

Sally flushed with pleasure. “I am just glad that we are both home safe and sound,” she replied.

Joanna dismissed her, and pulling on her silk wrapper, sat down in the chair by her window. Her room overlooked the small garden in back of the house, and she liked to read by the window, or just sit, taking in the peace and beauty of the knot garden and the roses. Today, however, she was blind to the colors, and the only smell she was conscious of, despite the open window, was the remembered stench of the prison.

The energy that had carried her through the afternoon was gone. She was exhausted. And heartsick. For years she had been hoping that Tony might one day
see
her as the woman she had become. The woman who had been in love with him since childhood. She smiled as she saw herself so many years ago kicking his shins and pounding him with her fists. That was the only time she had showed him a passionate response. When she had been dreaming of Tony as her devoted Lancelot, imaging what it would be like to be lifted up in front of him and ride away. She never did get beyond being held tenderly as he guided his horse homeward. And then, there he was, apologizing and laughing at the same time, no “parfit, gentil knight” at all, and that was when she knew she loved him. Oh, she would have been better off going after Ned, who at least was genuinely apologetic. But Ned was too stable, too good. Tony was volatile and funny and attractive.