What he did was useful. The money was as good or better than anyone with his background could expect. But as he lay his head on the pillow, he wished there was someone beside him, someone to whom he could turn for encouragement and comfort. But what woman would be willing to share his life: out all hours, hobnobbing with the lowest criminals to get information, smelling of Newgate from time to time. No, it was just time to get himself a whore, he told himself as he drifted off. He would visit Mrs. Doyle’s tomorrow night.
The next morning, after coffee and fresh rolls from the local baker, Gideon set out for the Fairhaven townhouse.
At first, the butler refused to inform Lord Fairhaven of his presence. “His lordship is very busy today and has no time for a caller without an appointment.”
“I understand. But if you tell him it is Gideon Naylor from Bow Street, I am sure he will find a way to see me.”
The man immediately became more respectful and went to deliver the message. He came back, looking a bit resentful at his employer’s response, saying: “His lordship can see you now.”
“Thank you.” Gideon was amused at the man’s annoyance. Servants to the rich and powerful often took on an air of self-importance that even outstripped their masters. He was used to it and used to the quick about-face when he identified himself. No one wanted to offend a Runner.
Lord Fairhaven was seated at his desk, going through the earl’s correspondence. Gideon had to clear his throat to gain his attention, he was so absorbed. Or
seemed
so, thought Naylor. Now why did that word pop into his mind?
“Good morning, Mr.…?”
“Naylor, my lord. Gideon Naylor.”
“Ah, yes. Please sit down. I have only a few minutes to give you,” said Mark, waving his hand over his cluttered desk, “but of course bringing Lady Fairhaven’s murderer to justice is of the greatest importance to me.” Mark frowned.
“Not that I hadn’t already thought he’d been caught. But I understand Lord Ashford was released yesterday.”
“Yes, my lord,” responded Gideon, sitting down on the other side of the desk. “The magistrates decided that there was not enough evidence: no witness to the crime, nothing left behind that would identify him.”
“But what about his motive?” said Mark angrily. “He certainly had that. The man was desperate and Claudia had just refused him money.”
“On the other hand, Lord Ashford states that he hoped to marry Lady Fairhaven. Indeed, that they became betrothed that night. That would certainly give him a motive to want her alive.”
“He is lying. I don’t think she ever would have married him. And I assume you received my note about Claudia’s will. If Ashford were to benefit under that, then there is a strong motive.”
“I was grateful for your information, my lord, and I did speak with Reresby. It does seem as though Lord Ashford will benefit, but it is not clear by how much, or if he knew about it.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Claudia was foolish enough to tell him,” said Mark.
“Yes, my lord. It is possible.” Gideon paused for a moment and then in his meekest and mildest of tones, said: “There is a curious fact that has just come to light, my lord, which is really why I came. It seems the under-footman who has disappeared from the Fairhaven household was not really an under-footman at all. Or Jim Tolin, for that matter. He is one Jim Rooke and up until a month ago was a clerk at Halesworth Limited.” Gideon’s face was at its blandest, his eyes seemingly sleepy and unfocused, but in reality, he was paying very close attention to Fairhaven’s reaction.
Mark rubbed his hand over his face and gave Naylor a sheepish smile. “I have something to confess, Mr. Naylor.”
“Indeed, my lord?”
“Jim was—or I should say is—one of my employees. He was a bright young man, ambitious for promotion, to whom I offered a business proposition. I asked him to apply for that position in Claudia’s household so that I could keep an eye on her. I was particularly concerned about her relationship with Ashford.”
“And why would you decide to do that, my lord?”
“I have always been very fond of Lady Fairhaven, Mr. Naylor.” Fairhaven’s voice trembled a little and he glanced away as though it were painful to look Naylor in the face and talk about his feelings. “In fact, in the last two years, I realized that I cared about her a great deal. But she was very fond of my late cousin, and I intended to give her more time to recover her spirits before I would even consider approaching her as a possible suitor, much less pressure her. Tony Varden, on the other hand, was in desperate need of her money and had no other way to save his estate. I was afraid for Claudia. I didn’t want to interfere in her life,” continued Fairhaven slowly, “so much as just find out where things were at with Ashford. I hoped I could step in at the crucial point and dissuade her from marrying him.”
“And so you introduced a sort of spy into her household?”
Fairhaven hesitated. “I suppose you might see it like that, although I didn’t. Truly, I was only thinking of Claudia’s future. How could I have known that I should have been worrying about her safety?” he added bleakly.
“And so you received regular reports from this Jim?”
“Yes.”
“And what about the night of Lady Fairhaven’s murder? Did you hear from him then?”
“No. I had been out at several events. It was late and I was tired, so I went directly home. I didn’t hear about Claudia until late the next morning. And by then, Jim was gone.”
“So he didn’t run to you?”
“No. I must confess that I was surprised that he had disappeared. But when I think about it, the answer is obvious.”
“Oh?” said Gideon, with a trace of irony.
“Of course, Mr. Naylor. Either Ashford threatened him and he is in hiding, or Ashford got rid of him too. I rather think the latter, don’t you, Mr. Naylor, since he has not shown up?”
“It is certainly a possibility we have considered,” admitted Gideon. “But I am still looking for him.” Gideon got up out of his chair. “Indeed, I must be on my way. You will contact me should you hear anything from Jim, my lord?”
“Of course, Naylor, of course,” replied Mark. “But I am afraid something has happened to him or he would have been to see me already.” Fairhaven moved to the door of his office to open it for Gideon, all smiles and affability as he saw him out.
* * * *
Mark watched until Gideon was halfway down the street before returning to his desk. He looked blankly at the letters he had been opening, his mind going around and around the question that had been plaguing him for days. Why
had
Jim disappeared? Why had he not contacted his employer? And the most terrifying question of all: Had he seen something that night, and was that the reason for his flight?
* * * *
Gideon spent the day wandering the worst streets of St. Giles, seeking out his regular informants and giving them the usual incentives to keep their eyes open for a young man in footman’s livery. After leaving Jim’s description with half a dozen of his regulars, he suddenly realized that a fugitive, no matter how naive, might very well have decided to get rid of such noticeable clothes and headed for Petticoat Lane to question the old-clothesmen.
He hit five stalls before he found the right one. Yes, a young man had sold a suit of livery a few days ago, taking a used suit of clothes in return. Good news. But no, the owner of the stall had no idea where the young man was headed. The to-be-expected bad news.
So Gideon returned to St. Giles, tracked down his informants, and gave them the new information. On days like this, his job seemed impossible. Next he’d have to try the doss houses. Finding one man amongst all their customers would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. And there was the whole city of London to hide in. And would a respectably reared young man have come here anyway? But you had to start somewhere, as Gideon well knew from previous cases, and so he visited numerous doss houses, ignoring the squalor and the smell and handing out pennies like candy to the ill-dressed urchins in the streets. He got home too tired to go to the pub, so he bought himself a pint and a pasty, and immediately after his solitary supper fell into bed, so exhausted that he had completely forgotten he had planned on female company for the evening.
The evening at the theater had been as bad as Tony expected. All eyes were on the Barrand box and all fans were aflutter in front of the ladies’ faces as they turned to one another to exclaim upon the nerve of Lord Ashford and the foolishness of Lady Joanna in being seen with him.
During the interval only two people sought out their box: Colonel Bain, who purposely made himself very obvious by standing and chatting with Tony for almost the whole time, and Sir George Greene, a neighbor from Kent who, despite the protests of his wife had decided to show his support. “For I cannot believe that Ashford is capable of murder, my dear,” he said to his wife, who only shook her head in despair and said, “Of course not, George, neither do I, but must you add us to the gossip?”
Tony was not surprised by the colonel’s appearance, but he was very touched by the baronet’s, whose standing in the
ton
was not very high. To risk a precarious status was very kind indeed, and Tony greeted him warmly while Joanna smiled her approval at Sir George. Later, she whispered to her mother that she hadn’t believed he had it in him.
At the end of the evening, the Barrands dropped Tony off at his rooms. “You are going to attend Lady Howard’s tomorrow, I trust?” Lord Barrand asked him.
“I had not intended to.”
“Well, you must. You cannot let them think that they triumphed tonight.”
“Lady Howard will probably have me turned away,” said Tony, only half joking.
“Nonsense,” said Lady Barrand.
“Are you sure you want to do this, my friends?” asked Tony very seriously. “It is one thing to invite me to a private dinner and attend the theater with me. Quite another to continue the connection and perhaps affect Joanna’s chances. I would not like her to suffer for her admirable loyalty to an old friend.”
Joanna leaned forward and looked out at Tony. “I am hardly a dewy young thing surrounded by admirers, Tony. I think I have enough consequence to carry if off. Any admirers I have will just have to take me as I am.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Tony replied, with a mock flourish and bow, trying to cover his sudden and, to him, surprisingly emotional response to Joanna’s continuing loyalty.
As they drove away, Lady Barrand turned to her husband. “Do you think he will come?”
“Yes, I do. The boy is no coward and he owes Joanna something for all she has done for him.”
“I have done very little, Father,” said Joanna with a tinge of annoyance in her voice.
“Now, now, let us all just hope that all of this will blow over in a few weeks,” said her mother soothingly.
“And that Gideon Naylor finds this missing footman,” added Lord Barrand.
* * * *
Joanna dressed very carefully for the Howard ball. Not, she told herself, to impress Tony. He never noticed her appearance anyway. But she wanted her gown to set her apart from the other young women. No spider gauze or white for her tonight. Instead, she chose a rather daring creation that she had not had the nerve to wear yet. It was made of a pale green Indian muslin shot through with gold thread. Green had always been her color, for it brought out the green flecks in her eyes. And the gold thread shimmered in candlelight. The bodice was cut lower than any of her other dresses, not scandalously, but enough so that she looked sophisticated.
Joanna was surprised when she gazed at herself in her pier glass. She looked—not beautiful, really, nor even pretty—but stunningly attractive all the same. She decided that she would make sure that Madame Celeste and she included more of this sort of gown the next time she went shopping.
She had always been very popular amongst men who enjoyed her refreshing, straightforward manner, but this evening she seemed to be drawing a few of those who obviously preferred more conventional female charms. She was pleased to shine, so that when Tony arrived—
if
he arrived—she would be seen to be squeezing him into her almost-full card, as anyone might do with an old friend, rather than seeking him out of pity or from a lack of partners.
She had almost given up expecting him when she heard him announced as she was being led off onto the dance floor. The ripple of surprise and disapproval that went over the assemblage was almost palpable to her, and she wondered if she should approach him immediately after this set. But this was a supper dance, she remembered and, she had already committed herself to her partner, so she could only hope that Tony was seeking out her parents or Colonel Bain.
She had a hard time concentrating on her supper plate or the conversation of her escort. She tried to nod at the appropriate times and interject polite little phrases, but all she could really think about was what was happening to Tony.
She was promised for the next country dance, but when her partner approached her, she smiled apologetically and asked if he would mind sitting it out with her. “I fear I overindulged at the refreshment table,” she lied. Being at the edge of the ballroom gave her the opportunity to see where Tony had ended up. She was surprised to see him on the dance floor. Then, when she saw his partner, she understood. He had chosen, or perhaps it was the lady’s doing, the wife of Lord Cathcart, who enjoyed living on the edge of scandal, never quite stepping over any lines that would have put her beyond the pale. Flirting with danger was how she survived marriage to a peer whom even his friends considered a monumental bore. Dancing with a possible murderer was just what Lady Cathcart would see as a challenge. Well, thank God there were women like her, thought Joanna with a combination of relief and jealousy.
When the music stopped, Joanna sent her escort off to his next partner, assuring him that she was fully recovered, and after he had disappeared, made her way toward Tony and Lady Cathcart.