“Conversation or quarrel, my lord?”
“Disagreement, quarrel, what does it matter? We said good-night on the best of terms. In fact, we were unofficially betrothed,” said Tony bleakly.
“And we only have your word for it.”
Tony drew himself up and said haughtily: “The word of a Varden is not given lightly, I assure you, Mr. Naylor.”
“Be that as it may, I am afraid I must arrest you for the murder of Lady Claudia Fairhaven.”
“What! You must be out of your mind!”
“Not at all, my lord. You were the last person to have been seen with Lady Fairhaven. You were overheard quarreling with her over money. And you now have quite a bit of money. You were a soldier on the Peninsula, I believe?”
“Yes, and what has that got to do with anything?”
“Although the coroner has not made his final report, he does have some suspicions. The only signs of violence were thumbprints on both sides of Lady Fairhaven’s throat. He suspects pressure on the carotid arteries, my lord, a very quick and silent way of killing that a seasoned soldier like yourself might know.”
Tony blanched. “So might anyone else. A burglar. Have you thought of that? She may have been surprised by a common thief.”
“It would be rare for our common thief to kill so expertly. Bludgeoning is more a burglar’s style.”
Tony looked blankly down at his hands and then up at Naylor. “I swear that I didn’t kill Lady Fairhaven, Naylor. But I am glad whoever did chose that method. It would have been swift and painless and she wouldn’t have suffered. May I see her?”
“You will be in Newgate within the half hour, my lord.”
“You are making a terrible mistake, Naylor. And letting the real murderer get away. But short of knocking you down and making myself look even more guilty, I suppose I have no choice,” said Tony with painful irony.
“I would not be so easily overcome, my lord,” said Naylor with a quick smile.
“No? You certainly don’t look threatening.”
“I was a soldier in the Forty-seventh Foot before I became a Runner, my lord. And I have found that a mild appearance often works as well as a threatening one.” Naylor cleared his throat. “I must ask you to get dressed and come with me, Lord Ashford.”
Tony nodded and pushed his chair back. “But before you do,” continued Naylor, “you will give me the money.”
Tony looked down at the sheaf of notes. It was all he had, and the only thing that stood between him and a common cell at Newgate.
“Half of this is mine, Naylor. Well, all of it, since Claudia did give it to me. Of course, my creditors would say none of it is,” he added with a poor attempt at humor.
“Be that as it may, it is evidence. After I’ve verified your story, I’ll see what I can do about getting some of it back to you.”
Tony’s hand rested a moment on top of the money, and then, calling his valet, he went to get dressed.
“John, you are going to have to go to the pawnbroker’s again, but with what, God knows.”
“Your ring, my lord?”
“No, I can’t sell it, even if I starve. No, take my best boots and a few shirts. Here, here are some books, too. That should keep me for a day or two. And I most certainly will be out by then. This whole charge is ridiculous and will soon be proved so.”
The trip to Newgate was made in silence. Gideon Naylor sat opposite his prisoner in a hansom cab and observed him carefully. Ashford was a handsome young man, that was true enough, he thought, with his dark blond curls and brown eyes. He was sure that those eyes could look teasing or soulfully romantic, depending upon his lordship’s mood and purpose. Right now, they were focused on his lordship’s hands. He seemed to be looking at his signet ring and fingering it, as though to reassure himself that he was still Anthony Varden, Lord Ashford.
Lady Fairhaven had been married off by her parents to an older man. Her servants had assured Naylor that it had been a very happy marriage. Nevertheless, Gideon was sure that a young, handsome man like Ashford could easily have captured the widow’s heart. And her fortune. Ashford was desperate, from what he had found out, and desperation could drive a man to deeds he would otherwise have been incapable of.
On the other hand, there was that missing footman, who was new in the household and therefore an unknown quantity. The butler indicated that Jim had seemingly been devoted to his new mistress. But a few weeks was a short time to develop loyalty.
And there was also the lady’s cousin by marriage to consider. Gideon had met him briefly at the house. He had appeared to be as shocked as Varden at the news, but Gideon was making no final assumptions about the case yet. Ashford was clearly the prime suspect: he had motive, he was the last person to see Lady Fairhaven alive, and he had her money. True, he seemed genuinely distraught, but then many a criminal regretted this sort of crime, one committed in the passion of the moment. One the criminal would never have thought himself capable of. And one that occurred all too often.
When they reached the prison, Naylor, moved by a moment of compassion that surprised him, asked Lord Ashford if he had any money.
Tony looked up blankly. He was so dazed by the events of the morning that he hadn’t even realized they’d arrived.
“A shilling or two, Naylor. You’ve kindly relieved me of the rest of my money. But my valet is out selling some things, so I should have money by this evening.”
“Well, until he gets here, my lord, you will be in the felons’ court. You’ll be able to afford a bed and some food, at least. And if your valet can get enough, they will let you a private room. Your friends can visit and bring you food and whatever else you need.”
“Friends? All my close friends are in the army, Naylor. Back here…well, Lady Fairhaven was my friend. And Joanna,” he added. “The rest are only gaming companions, hardly the sort to concern themselves with my fate.”
Naylor opened the cab door and motioned Tony down. The prison, a long brick building, looked surprisingly new to Tony, considering there had been a jail there for five hundred years. Then he remembered: the original Newgate had been burned down in the Gordon riots and then rebuilt.
They were admitted by a short, squat man who reminded Tony of a frog, who handed them over to the turnkey. As they walked toward the felons’ court, the stench, which had been faint at the door, became overpowering and Tony gagged as bile rose in his throat. It was only through sheer will power that he kept himself from vomiting.
“ ‘Ere we are, my lord,” said the turnkey, letting Tony into the felons’ quadrangle. Tony took a few steps and then turned to Naylor, saying desperately: “I can’t stay here, Naylor. I didn’t kill Lady Fairhaven. You must believe me.”
“Believe you or no, my lord, first must come a magistrates’ hearing. That will decide whether there is enough evidence against you to keep you for trial. Right now, however, there is enough evidence for arrest. But I will see that your man gets in easily.”
And then Naylor was gone with the turnkey, and Tony felt himself pressed in on either side by fellow prisoners, some of whom took notice of him only to push or shove him out of their way, others who ignored him. All of them were pale, filthy, and stinking. He made his way slowly to the far end of the quadrangle, hoping for a corner in which to take a breath. He finally reached the wall and pressed himself back against it, as though if he leaned hard enough he would pass through and be out on the street and free.
The man next to him, a tall, cadaverous-looking fellow, poked him in the ribs.
“Yer first time, eh, guv? Ye look loike yere about ready to cast up yere accounts. Just don’t do it on me,” he joked. “Wot you in for?”
Tony looked at him blankly.
“Wot old Naylor catch you doin’? A swell loike you is usually over on the debtors’ side.”
“Murder. I am in for murder.”
“So ham Oi, guv, so ham Oi.”
Tony slid sideways along the wall.
“No need to be a shrinking violet, guv. Oi ain’t no murderer.”
“Neither am I,” whispered Tony.
“Oi did it in self-defense. Hif Oi ‘adn’t killed Matt Farnley, ‘e would ‘ave surely killed me. Oi owed ‘im that much blunt, ye see, and when ‘e came after me, well, wot’s a bloke to do, eh? Ye got any blunt, guv?”
“A few shillings.”
“Well, hif Oi was you, Oi would ‘and some of those there shillings right over to me, Oi would. A swell gent loike yereself ain’t goin’ to be too popular ‘ere. On the other ‘and,” the man continued with a rough nudge in Tony’s ribs, “ye might be more popular with some than you would prefer.” The man leered and winked. “Anyways, Oi can provide ye with protection.”
Tony hated to give up any money, but what choice had he? Please God, John would come soon, and at least he could get himself a private room. In hell, it was true, but at least he wouldn’t fear for his life. He drew out five shillings.
“Fanks, guv. That’ll keep yer safe for today, hat least.” And Tony’s protector moved off, leaving him against the wall, waiting for the scene in front of him to make sense, for the crowd to separate out into recognizable individuals, for himself to take in the fact that Anthony Varden, Lord Ashford, was now considered a common felon. Or perhaps an uncommon felon, he thought ironically. He took a deep breath, which was a mistake, and he finally and painfully vomited against the wall, adding one more foul smell to the fetid air.
Joanna had been sleeping late for the past few weeks, which was unusual for her. She was normally an early riser and often went for an early-morning ride, before the park was crowded. She would not admit that her tiredness was due to her despair over Tony and Lady Fairhaven. Her excuse to herself was that she had been uncommonly active this past fortnight, although in truth she had attended no more social functions than usual.
Her parents were still at the breakfast table when she finally came down, and seemed rather subdued. She accepted a plate from the footman and poured her own cup of tea, as was her habit.
“Thank you, Matthew. Good morning,
mes parents,”
she said with a smile.
“Good morning, dear,” her mother replied. “I trust you slept well.”
“Why yes, Mother, and later again than usual, as you can see.”
Her father put his newspaper down, and looking meaningfully over at his wife, said: “I thought we agreed you would tell her, Sylvia.”
“Tell me what, Father?”
Lady Barrand took a deep breath. “Something terrible has happened, Joanna. Tony Varden…”
Joanna’s face turned pale. “Tell me immediately, Mother. Is Tony injured? Dead? Was he killed in some hell in a fight over cards?”
The look of pain in her daughter’s eyes frightened Lady Barrand. She had always suspected that Joanna was more than half in love with their handsome young neighbor, but she had hoped it wasn’t so, especially when Tony, inheriting such a burden, turned to cards and a rich widow as a solution. Joanna had hidden her feelings very well. On the one hand, this was a good thing, for no gossip had ever surfaced about her and Tony. On the other, she had also kept her feelings from her parents, and Lady Barrand had always respected her daughter’s privacy. She had wanted to offer comfort for weeks, but it had been impossible until now.
“No, no, Joanna. But it is almost worse than that.”
Joanna sighed with relief. To her, nothing could be worse. Even knowing Tony was likely to marry Lady Fairhaven would be nothing compared to losing him altogether. A world without Tony in it somewhere was not a world worth living in.
“What your mother is trying to tell you, Joanna, is that Lady Fairhaven was murdered early this morning, and Tony has been arrested for the crime.”
Joanna dropped her fork, which clattered against her plate. The sound was very loud and seemed to go on forever. Then she found her voice.
“Tony a murderer? That is ridiculous. How on earth could they have arrested him?”
“Evidently he was the last person to be seen with her. The butler overheard them quarreling about money before he was sent up to bed. And in the morning, when the servants came down, they found their mistress on the library floor, with things in disarray around her.”
“It was obviously a burglary, then,” protested Joanna.
“I am sure there are other details we are not yet aware of, my dear,” said her mother.
“But, Mother, you cannot believe this! You both
know
Tony.”
“I would never have believed it before. But Tony was desperate, you know. Deeply in debt and with Ashford depending upon him.”
“And gaming is like a fever, Joanna,” said her father. “It takes control of a man. If Lady Fairhaven refused him money…?”
“I don’t care how desperate Tony was, he could never kill anyone, especially a woman he cared about.”
“Joanna, he
has
killed, many times, one would assume. After all, he has been a soldier for years.”
“But that is different, Father.”
“It is different, but the experience can harden a man.”
“Not enough to kill a woman he…loved.”
“But do you think he was really in love with Lady Fairhaven, dear?” asked Lady Barrand. “Isn’t it rather unlikely? She was older than he, after all.”
“Only by five years, Mother. And she is—was—a very attractive woman. And from all I knew of her, a kind woman. I think Tony cared a lot about her.”
“Well, be that as it may, at least you know, and you are prepared for all the gossip,” said her father, pushing back from the table to signal the conversation was at an end. “What are your plans for the day, Joanna?”
“I am promised to go shopping and to Gunter’s with Amelia Grant.”
“Good,” said her mother. “I think if you keep busy today, you will feel better. And who knows, Joanna, Tony may be released right after the hearing.”
Joanna nodded and sat staring at her plate. She had no appetite now, although she did feel uncommonly thirsty, and gulped down a second cup of tea. Thank goodness she was past the age when her parents kept close tabs on her. As long as she had her abigail with her, they didn’t question her comings and goings much. Today she was committed, but tomorrow she intended to visit Newgate and talk to Tony. She wanted to hear his side of the story face-to-face.