Death at the Devil's Tavern (37 page)

It was then, and only then, that the Apothecary had his first true sight of the other side of the great beau, a sight that he had glimpsed momentarily at Islington Spa, even though on that occasion Roger's heavy lids had suddenly concealed his eyes from John's inquisitive gaze. Now he saw that beneath the beautiful clothes and elegant wigs, the perfumed powder and the ornate jewellery, lurked something else. A sensual gluttony, an immense immorality, a grand licentiousness that was almost to be admired. Flamboyant and effeminate he might be, but for all that Roger seemed quite capable of making a woman fall in love with him. In the face of such deplorable depravity, John was silenced.

Roger took the initiative. ‘So,' he said, with a careless shrug of a silk-clad shoulder, ‘my secret is out, is it?'

The Apothecary recovered his composure. ‘It has been out a while, in a sense. I have been aware for quite some time that Miss Lambourn had somebody else beside your father. Whilst Samuel Swann got an inkling of a hidden side to you at Sir William's funeral.'

‘Did he now?' The beau poured himself a sherry and offered a glass to John. ‘Then I must give him credit for his perception.'

‘But though I agreed with him, I am frankly amazed that you turned out to be Amelia's lover, Roger – you did ask me to call you that, if you remember.'

‘Why? Because you thought me of another persuasion? How tiresome of you, John. Have you not heard of people who make their own rules when it comes to passion? I may be a frivolous empty-headed profligate who squanders his life away at the gaming tables and other trivial pastimes, but let me assure you that my saving grace is a love of beauty.'

‘I see.'

‘No, you don't. Not at all. What I am trying to say to you is that I care not what form that beauty takes, in what body it is housed. Now do you understand me?'

‘Of course I do,' John answered wryly. ‘You are bi-sexual.'

‘What a hideous word! And to admit such a thing would be to fall foul of the law. Let us leave it that I am a connoisseur of all that is fine regardless of its place of origin.'

The ruthless streak that the Apothecary usually suppressed, gained foothold. ‘And does this elegance of judgement balk at murder in order to obtain its desires?'

Roger swallowed his sherry and poured himself another, the hand holding the decanter shaking very slightly. ‘And what the devil do you mean by that?'

‘I mean that your sexual mores are entirely your affair. I am not here to pass judgement on those. My concern is the investigation of a killing, the killing of
your father
, lest you had forgotten.'

Roger groaned and rolled his eyes, slumping back in his chair, the gorgeously turbaned head lolling slightly, giving it a strange puppet-like look. Then there was an eruption in the doorway as Amelia Lambourn flew in like a fury and rushed to her lover's side.

‘There, now look what you've gone and done. He's come over faint! How could you, you heartless wretch?'

‘No, no,' said Roger, reviving noisily and motioning her away. ‘I'm perfectly all right. Don't make such a fuss.'

There was a silence during which Amelia, very pink in the cheeks but still displaying that fragile loveliness which set her apart from other young women of her background, gave Roger a fraught look. He returned it with a glance which John found inscrutable. Amelia, however, obviously read the signs for she let out a deep sigh and sank to the floor to sit at Roger's feet. He gently patted her head and the very movement spoke volumes. The beau could have been stroking anything, a pedigree hound, a handsome cat, a beautiful youth, or the woman with whom he had committed an act of enormous folly, it really was all one and the same to him. Yet again, John was consumed by a grudging respect for the blatant immorality of the man.

‘You had better tell me everything,' he said. ‘And I do mean
everything
.'

‘We met five years ago,' said Roger, after consuming yet more sherry. ‘I was thirty, Amelia ten years younger. I was involved with a group of bright young blades at the time – we called ourselves the Whisker-Splitters, as I remember it. In fact I was at Islington Spa with them that very night. Anyway, I saw Amelia and was so taken with her that I thought of her all next day. She became, for me, the butterfly that I had to have in my collection. To cut the tale short, I went back and captured her.'

‘But surely Lady Hartfield was alive at that time?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well then, how did Sir William become involved?'

Roger actually laughed. ‘I devised a plan to stop the poor old goat being so mournful. I thought that if he fell in love with Amelia he would cease to be so wretched and miserable. After all it wasn't easy for him, living with an invalid wife.'

‘That has to be one of the most sinful statements I have ever heard.'

Roger laughed again. ‘Oh don't be so pompous! It was not the credo of the Whisker-Splitters to be moralistic. Anyway, Amelia consented to the plan and I took my father to the Spa and introduced them. He fell in love with the girl at first sight and after a dignified courtship asked her to be his mistress.'

‘Whilst remaining yours at the same time?'

‘Certainly. A very erotic situation.'

‘You are beyond redemption.'

‘Yes,' said Roger, quite seriously. ‘I truly believe that I am.'

‘Everything was all right till Sir William asked me to marry him,' Amelia put in, her accent grating after her lover's cultured tones.

‘So why, in God's name, did you say yes to him? Purely for material gain, I suppose?'

‘Not quite,' answered Roger. ‘To be honest with you I didn't have a mind for wedding myself. We Whisker-Splitters believed in roaming freely, taking our pleasures when and how we liked. Marriage did not enter into our thinking.'

‘So?'

‘So Amelia and I thought that we would give the old man a last few years of happiness with a young and beautiful bride.'

‘With plenty of money for you both to squander and your own little arrangement unaffected.'

‘Quite right.'

‘Have you no shame?' John asked, torn once again between disgust and an awful sense of sneaking regard for such totally unprincipled behaviour.

‘None at all,' Roger answered cheerfully. ‘Do have another sherry.'

‘One moment,' said the Apothecary, raising a staying hand. ‘I have two more questions to ask you. The first is, have either of you ever heard a rumour that Sir William was being blackmailed?'

Amelia looked uncomfortable and stole another glance at Roger, who nodded. ‘Yes, I have, and it was true. He told me so himself,' she said haltingly.

‘But why. What was it all about?'

‘Somebody was threatening to reveal the fact that he had a mistress to his fellow merchants. A terrible thing to him because he liked to appear respectable. You see, I think Sir William wanted to rise high in the world of commerce, perhaps become a man of some distinction. I don't really understand these things, but I do know that someone was making him pay to keep silent about me.'

‘But he was just about to marry you so what was the point?'

‘The blackmailer started to threaten while my mother was still alive,' Roger answered drily.

‘I shall be reporting all this back to John Fielding, of course,' said John, trying to sound stern.

Roger instantly sprang to his feet and a large hand flapped. ‘My dear, of course you will be. That is your duty, is it not?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, it should certainly give the Beak something to think about. A respectable family man like him.'

John managed a smile. ‘Tell me, what will the two of you do now?'

‘In what regard?'

‘Well, Amelia has been left penniless, while you have a share in a business, to say nothing of a considerable fortune. So who's going to keep the young lady now? Or is she going back to Islington Spa? What say the Whisker-Splitters to that little conundrum?'

Miss Lambourn turned an enquiring face to her lover. ‘Yes, Roger. What
do
they say?'

‘Er …' answered the great beau.

‘Good night,' murmured John, and bowed his way out.

His usual energy sapped by the day's events yet his mind teeming with all the extraordinary things he had learned, John had walked slowly home through the green of St James's Park, seeing none of its beauty, not even noticing the contentedly grazing cows who dwelled there, all of whom had looked up as he passed, mooed at him, then gone on eating. Almost in a trance, the Apothecary had made his way round the park's long pond and cut into Pall Mall, then turned off towards The Hay Market and Nassau Street. But there his reverie had been rudely interrupted. Benjamin Rudge, twitching with anxiety, was still awaiting him, not consoled at all by Sir Gabriel's assurances that it was highly unlikely his son had come to any harm.

‘God's sweet life, Mr Rawlings. I'd almost given you up for dead,' he exclaimed as John walked into the library. ‘I've been waiting for word since this afternoon.'

‘I'm sorry, Mr Rudge, I really am, but there was no way I could communicate with you. One trail led to another and so it went on. But now I am all done, quite literally.' And he sank into a chair.

‘Is there anything I should report to Mr Fielding?' asked the Runner, standing up, a slightly peevish expression on his face.

‘Perhaps you could tell him that I will call on him tomorrow. There is so much to say that I think I should recount it personally.'

Rudge looked even more put out and Sir Gabriel said tactfully, ‘What time will this be, John? Mr Rudge will obviously need to be there and it would be easier to tell him now.'

‘Would eight o'clock be too early?' the Apothecary asked contritely.

‘No, Sir, I am sure that will be in order,' Rudge said stiffly.

‘Then I shall see you tomorrow and I do apologise again for your long and boring wait.' The Runner went out and John pulled a face at his father. ‘Oh dear, he is not well pleased.'

‘It can't be helped. Now, my dear child, tell me everything.'

What a pleasure it was, John thought, to sit in the familiar and well-loved confines of his favourite room and recount the story of the remarkable happenings of the last few hours to someone whose acute mind he considered equalled only by that of the Blind Beak. Indeed, even Sir Gabriel's sagacious nods were encouraging and the Apothecary warmed to his tale, finishing it with the words, ‘Well, what do you think?'

‘About the twins?'

‘Yes.'

‘That you are perfectly right.'

‘But could their jinket have a more baleful purpose?'

‘Indeed it could. I would watch them both very carefully.'

‘And speaking of watching people, may I ask you another great favour, my very dear Father.'

‘You want me to go to Kirby Hall again.'

‘I do. Merely to observe the doings of the three weird women who inhabit it. I am sure you cannot find out their whereabouts at the time Kitty Perkins died, without arousing suspicion. However, any information would be useful.'

‘I shall call on them the day after tomorrow in order to pay my respects.'

‘Many thanks. Now, what do you make of Roger?'

‘Much as I had thought, though I must confess I am surprised that he has turned out to be Amelia's lover.'

‘He has collected her, so he says. He is an admirer of loveliness – in all its forms – and she proved irresistible.'

Sir Gabriel laughed robustly. ‘What a blackguard.'

‘Yes, but like the twins, could his longing for wealth and beauty have led him to kill?'

‘More than likely,' said John's father matter-of-factly. ‘Collectors – of anything – are known for their ruthlessness and eccentricity. Indeed, they are highly dangerous individuals, who would remove any obstacle in order to get their hands on the object of their desire.'

John nodded as the import of the words fully sank in, and with them the certainty that behind the mask of Roger's heavy-lidded eyes might well lurk a ruthless killer, prepared even to put down his own father in his search for perfection.

The Apothecary rose early the next morning and made a flying visit to Shug Lane to see that all was in order. For once he preceded the redoubtable Nicholas, who came panting in some five minutes later with an extremely anxious expression on his face.

‘Oh God's wounds, Mr Rawlings, I saw the door open and believed you had been robbed.'

‘No, all's well. I just thought I ought to cast my eye over the place as I have a feeling I might be occupied elsewhere for the next several days.'

‘Why, is the net closing round the villain?'

‘I'd like to say yes,' John answered truthfully, ‘but the fact remains that he or she still eludes me.' He changed the subject. ‘Anyway, how is business? And what is Master Gerard like?'

‘Old and pompous but full of interesting ideas and remedies. I've taken the liberty of writing some of them down.'

‘Well done, I shall study those when I have a spare moment.'

‘When,' said Nicholas, and smiled his thin-faced smile.

Walking very briskly, John reached Bow Street just as eight o'clock was striking and hurried in to find Mr Fielding awaiting him in his downstairs study. There was a fresh smell of lavender about the Magistrate this morning and John could see by a nick on his cheek that he had cut himself whilst shaving, a feat which he presumably accomplished by touch. Glad that he was looking smartly presentable even though he could not be seen, the Apothecary took a seat in the chair that the Blind Beak was indicating.

‘I hear from Rudge that there is a great deal afoot,' said the Magistrate, not wasting time on pleasantries.

‘Yes,' answered John, and started to describe all that had transpired.