Lord Ashford's Wager (19 page)

Mrs. Spencer gave him a genuine smile at that observation. “Yes, I have walked by and seen her new…employee. We have been friendly rivals, you see, and as soon as I hired Jim, she had to go and get herself someone. Now, what can I get you, Mr. Naylor? A brandy? Champagne? A room for a few hours?”

Gideon shook his head. “I have had enough to drink tonight, Mrs. Spencer. And Annie—you perhaps know Annie—has quite satisfied my other needs.”

“Then why are you here, Mr. Naylor? Surely not just to compare the quality of our footmen.”

“Actually, that is precisely why I am here.”

Mrs. Spencer frowned and was about to get up when Gideon put out his hand and took her wrist. His grasp was gentle but firm, and she sank back down in her chair.

“I am a Runner, Mrs. Spencer. And also a regular customer at Mrs. Doyle’s,” he added with a quick grin. “I have been looking for one Jim Rooke for days, and when Annie described your footman I suspected I might have found him. I want you to tell me what you know of him.”

“Nothing,” Mrs. Spencer replied coldly. “I hired him off the street.”

“Now, Mrs. Spencer. Blisse, did you say? Why would you have hired a young man without knowing anything about him? You seem a shrewd woman, Blisse. I can’t quite fathom you doing that.”

“I am Mrs. Spencer to you, Mr. Naylor. And whether you fathom it or not, it is true.”

Gideon was sure there was more to it than she was telling him, but he decided to let it go for the moment. After all, he wasn’t here to harass Mrs. Spencer, but to find Jim. Which he was sure he had done.

“Perhaps you would be interested in hearing that your new employee is wanted in a murder case?”

Mrs. Spencer responded coolly that she found this hard to believe, but if a Runner of Mr. Naylor’s obvious stature said so, than it must be true.

Gideon ignored the sarcastic emphasis she placed on “stature” and said: “I think we will have Jim in. No, no please don’t get up, Mrs. Spencer. I will summon him.” Gideon suspected that the woman would have warned Jim off, and so he opened the parlor door and told the young man that Mrs. Spencer wanted to see him. Gideon shut the door after him and stood in front of it.

As Jim approached Mrs. Spencer, she just waved her hand in Gideon’s direction. Jim turned to him, and then glanced back at his employer with a puzzled look on his face. “Should I show the gentleman up to a room, madam?”

“No, Mr. Rooke. That is your name, isn’t it?” asked Gideon with an assumed air of innocence.

Jim fought hard to keep himself from bolting past Naylor and out the door. He was silent, not sure how he had been found or by whom. If this was another employee of Lord Fairhaven’s, he would not say a word. But surely Lord Fairhaven would have sent someone bigger and more dangerous-looking.

“Mr. Naylor is a Bow Street Runner, Jim,” Mrs. Spencer announced.

Jim didn’t know if he was more relieved or terrified. Thank God Fairhaven hadn’t found him. But if the Runners were after him, what did that mean and what chance did he have? In fact, Fairhaven himself could have hired a Runner to find him, he suddenly thought, the fear rising again.

“I have been hired by Lady Joanna Barrand to investigate Lady Fairhaven’s murder. She is an old friend of Lord Ashford’s, who was arrested for the crime.”

“Lord Ashford?” Jim repeated, a look of surprise on his face.

Interesting, thought Gideon. He didn’t seem to expect that name.

“Anthony Varden, Lord Ashford. From what we know so far, he was the last person to see Lady Fairhaven alive. Of course,” Gideon added sarcastically, “we were missing one key witness. Yourself. Or were we missing the murderer?” he continued in a deceptively friendly voice.

Jim started. “Me? Kill Lady Fairhaven? Oh no, sir, never!”

“You were a very new employee, after all. It is odd, Mr. Rooke. You seem to be quite adept in finding short-term service in, ah, various sorts of houses. Did Mark Halesworth send you here too?”

Jim’s shoulders slumped. “So you know,” he whispered.

“I know that Lord Fairhaven wanted a spy in the household and that you were hired to be that spy. I know that you may have opened the door to Lady Fairhaven’s killer. I am just not quite sure who that killer was.”

Mrs. Spencer, who had been watching very closely, marveled at Naylor’s technique. His tone was even, his voice low—so low she almost had to stop breathing at times to catch what he was saying. His personality, what she had seen of it, receded like his hairline, so that the space between the questioned and questioner was all taken up by Jim’s fear. There was no contempt or anger in Naylor’s voice. There was nothing but mild interest. How skillful, she thought. If he had bullied, Jim would have bolted or resisted, she was sure. Instead, he pulled himself out of the way and left all the space for Jim.
How would he have handled me?
she wondered, and then realized that she was as curious about him personally as professionally.

Jim swallowed several times. “Lord Ashford was actually arrested for the murder?”

“Yes.”

“But he is not likely to be convicted, sir? A peer of the realm, and all?”

Naylor decided not to tell him that Ashford was free for the moment. “We have a witness—the butler—who heard him quarreling with Lady Fairhaven. We have a motive: six hundred pounds. Perhaps even a larger motive; we won’t know until her will is read. Peer of the realm, or no, he will swing if he did it.”

Jim was desperate. He didn’t want Ashford condemned for a crime he didn’t commit. But neither did he want to risk his own safety. If he came forward, what would stop Fairhaven from having him killed before the trial?

“Of course, if we had a witness, someone who saw Ashford leave and Lady Fairhaven still alive, well, then, he would be in no danger, would he?” said Gideon mildly.

Maybe there was a way out, thought Jim. Naylor was giving him refuge, not pushing him out into the cold. All he had to admit to was Lady Fairhaven’s appearance at the library door, asking him to let Lord Ashford out, and Lord Ashford’s announcement of their betrothal. That would clear Ashford without implicating him or Lord Fairhaven. He let his breath out in a deep sigh and told Gideon the partial truth.

“And you are sure that Lady Fairhaven was alive when Ashford left?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” said Jim, relieved and happy.

“And Ashford told you about their betrothal?

“He was very happy and generous, sir. He gave me a guinea.”

“So you did have some money when you ran?”

“Uh, yes.”

“But what I still do not understand, Jim,” said Gideon softly, “is
why
you ran.”

Oh, dear,
thought Mrs. Spencer.
He has him now.

“Uh, you see, sir, I was feeling more and more unhappy about my position in the house, sir. Lady Fairhaven was very kind to me. It was beginning to feel wrong to be spying on her. And if they were already engaged…well, then, my job was over anyway, wasn’t it? So I left.”

“But you didn’t return to Halesworth Limited? Didn’t report to Lord Fairhaven?”

“Well, er, no, sir. I thought he would be annoyed with me, leaving my post and all. And I wasn’t all that happy, being a clerk.”

“So you thought to better yourself, is that it, and took on a position in a whorehouse?”

“It was the best job I could find, sir. Mrs. Spencer was very generous with me,” he said stoutly.

Mrs. Spencer stood up and approached them. “Yes, Jim has added a certain cachet to my house which it didn’t have before. The customers quite like it, and indeed, I am drawing in a better class as the word spreads. Now, I am sure you would like to take down Jim’s statement, Mr. Naylor, so he can get back to work. I will be right back with pen and paper.”

“Sit down, Jim,” Gideon said firmly.

“Yes, sir.”

“I assume you are willing to write out a statement?”

“Absolutely, sir. I wouldn’t want an innocent man convicted.”

“And what about the guilty one, Jim? What of him? Would you want him convicted?”

“Of course, sir. If I knew who he was.”

And something tells me you do, Jim,
said Gideon to himself. But he also knew that the boy was terrified. He had come up with a halfway decent story on the spur of the moment, but it was obviously a lie. His parents would die if they knew where he was, and from all reports, he was very close to them. No, he had run in fear that night, and was in hiding here. Well, if he was that scared, he probably had good reason for it, and Gideon wasn’t about to have his star witness killed before he could give testimony.

Mrs. Spencer was back with a few sheets of vellum and a pen, and Jim, in his clear and painstaking clerk’s hand, wrote a detailed account of that evening. After it was sanded and folded, Gideon put it in his coat pocket.

“I am grateful for your cooperation, Jim. As will be Lady Joanna and Lord Ashford. And thank you for your unwilling help, Mrs. Spencer,” he added with an ironic smile. “Jim, you seem quite happy in your employment here. I would advise you not to go anywhere until the real murderer is apprehended. You should be safe here. It is unlikely that Annie will be entertaining anyone else interested in you. I have enjoyed meeting you, Mrs. Spencer. I will be stopping by from time to time, to check on Jim. Who knows, maybe I will grow to like it and change my custom from Mrs. Doyle’s to here.”

“You would be most welcome,” said Mrs. Spencer, with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

Gideon Naylor’s visit had shaken Mark Halesworth. He had not expected anyone to make the connection between him and his ex-clerk. In fact, he had not expected much investigation at all. Ashford had the strongest motive, after all, and there was a witness to implicate him. Jim’s disappearance was disturbing, but unless he reappeared, Mark could continue to throw suspicion on Tony Varden.

But now that the Barrands had hired themselves a Runner, there was a possibility that Jim might be found. A slight possibility, of course. But who would have thought that the unprepossessing Naylor would have been able to trace Jim back to Halesworth Limited? If Gideon Naylor did succeed in finding Jim, then Mark wanted to be sure he knew about it.

He decided to have Naylor followed. And he had just the man to do it: Tom Drabble, who was one of his employees on the docks.

The day after Naylor’s visit, therefore, he left the office early and made his way to the dockside. He was in mourning, and was almost invisible as he stood in the shadows, waiting for the men to leave. Drabble was one of the last, and luckily for Mark, he was alone. He emerged from the alley long enough to beckon him over.

“Mr. ‘Alesworth! Oi mean, Lord Fair’aven. Wot a surprise to see you ‘ere, m’lord.” Drabble was a small, weasel-faced man whom Mark had hired for odd jobs before, usually to spy on his fellow workers, to make sure none of them lifted any Halesworth goods.”

“I have a job for you, Drabble.”

“ ‘Oo is it this time, m’lord? Someone in the warehouse?”

“Actually, you are going to take a few days off, Drabble. I want you to do a little following for me.”

“Following, m’lord?”

“Yes. And I will pay both your wages and your usual rate.”

Drabble sniffled. It was an unpleasant habit he had, and Mark was always tempted to hand him a handkerchief. His long nose was always dripping and, indeed, his fellow workers had dubbed him Tom Dribble. Thank God he did not have to use his nose to find anyone, thought Mark, as he watched Drabble wipe it on his sleeve. Were he a hound, he’d be completely useless in picking up a scent. But he was surprisingly good at sniffing out the thief in the warehouse or picking up news on the street about Mark’s competitors.

“ ‘Oo will Oi be following, m’lord?”

“Actually, Drabble, you’ll be following a Bow Street Runner.”

“A Runner, sir?”

“One Gideon Naylor.”

“Naylor!”

“You’ve heard of him?”

“ ‘Oo ‘asn’t? ‘E’s one of the best thief takers they’ve got.”

“He didn’t strike me as very threatening.”

“No, ‘e doesn’t, and therein lies ‘is strength, m’lord.” Sniffle, sniffle.

“Do you think you can stay close to him without him knowing it?”

“Oi think so, sir. Oi’m werry good at wot Oi do too.”

“Indeed, you certainly are. I particularly want to know if and when Naylor comes across a certain young man, Jim Rooke. Be on him first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir. Oi’ll plant meself at Bow Street and start from there.”

“And you are sure he won’t notice you?”

“Oi think not, my lord.”

“I don’t want any connection made between us, Drabble. I’ll meet you at the Golden Crown for a report in the next few days.”

Sniffle. “Yes, m’lord.”

“Be off with you, then. I don’t want anyone seeing us together.” Mark could hear Drabble snuffling his way down the street. He might sound ridiculous, but he was good, and if Naylor found Jim, Mark was sure that Drabble would only be a few yards behind.

* * * *

The next morning Drabble was at his post near the magistrate’s court. When Gideon emerged, he only went as far as the Garrick’s Head, where he sat himself down to a plate of ham and eggs and a large tankard of ale. He looked relaxed and not as though he were on a job at all, thought Drabble, who was standing at the bar, waiting for the bartender to pull him a glass of beer. Drabble drank slowly, and when Gideon got up, turned his back to the door. But he finished his beer quickly and was out in time to see Naylor turn the corner. He sauntered after him and watched him approach a cabstand. Damn. Fairhaven hadn’t said anything about expenses, so he would have to spend some of his wages to follow. He was lucky he was close enough to overhear Naylor’s destination.

Drabble told his driver to drop him off two streets further and they passed Gideon’s cab just as the Runner was going up the steps of 15 Clarges Street. Drabble ignored the grumbling about “cheap bastards wasting a driver’s time.” He wasn’t about to add anything to the cab fare. Not if the expenses might be on him.