The Duke's Agent (18 page)

Colonel Ison, Member of Parliament and Chairman of the Bench, had arrived.

A glance at Colonel Ison when in repose might lead the casual observer to mistake him for just another prosperous gentleman farmer, but when in motion his face and manner exuded an energy combined with the utter confidence of authority that made him remarkable. At that moment he marched into the room the black brows which gave character to a rounded, almost chubby, face were concentrated in a stern line, and under them his hazel eyes were acute.

‘I've come as fast as I was able. Your servant, Reverend. Mr Raistrick.' The Colonel bounced a business-like bow at each. ‘I don't believe you know my companion.' Turning to the slight young man who followed him, he said, ‘My Lord, may I introduce to you the Reverend Justice Prattman, parson of this parish, and Mr Justice Raistrick. Sirs, Lord Earewith.'

The Duke of Penrith's eldest son executed a polite bow to the two magistrates. The fine cloth of his travelling cloak whispered wealth in every elegant fold, while the sharp, complex creases of his cravat and the silver-topped cane he held so negligently in his gloved hand testified to his sense of fashion. The faintly bored expression with which he acknowledged the introduction gave way to one of charming animation as he walked over to the agent. Jarrett leapt up with hand outstretched.

‘Charles!'

The hand was grasped and used to pull Jarrett into an uninhibited embrace.

‘Raif, dear fellow! I called on the Colonel here to convey my father's regards as I passed, heard where he was headed and here I am.' Charles turned his closely cropped head to glance around him. ‘Might I have a chair?' he asked pleasantly.

The vestryman so addressed stared in confusion. As the gentleman was clearly used to being obeyed there seemed no answer but to start up and offer his own seat. The Marquess watched patiently as the man deposited the chair. With a gracious nod of dismissal, my lord moved the seat to a spot slightly behind Jarrett and made himself comfortable. Resting a careless hand on his friend's shoulder, he surveyed the chamber with a lively expression.

‘So, Raif – as I appear to have arrived after the first act – tell me the plot so far.'

*

The Colonel's arrival revolutionised the universe. As with the appearance of a large planet in a small galaxy, the relationships in the council chamber switched seamlessly into new orbits. The change in Mr Raistrick was remarkable. One minute the puppet-master, the next he had dampened down all the glowing colours of his presence and retreated – without seeming to retreat – into the role of the lawyer, legal adviser to the bench.

In a tone that was brisk and a touch impatient the Colonel asked for the record of proceedings. The clerk Pye, with no more expression than a mechanical doll, handed over the large book in which he had noted down the testimony of the witnesses. Perching a pair of half-moon spectacles on his nose, the Colonel rapidly scanned the account. He flicked an acute glance under his black brows at the townsfolk crowding the room.

‘Odd business. Don't hold with these open sessions myself. Unsettles the public. This affair should have been investigated in private, Prattman. Mr Raistrick, you are our legal man, you should have advised against it.'

He looked over to where Jarrett sat with Lord Earewith. The two men were in conversation, their heads bent close together. The Colonel exchanged a brief nod of acknowledgement with the agent.

‘A bad business,' he declared roundly. ‘Bad business, badly managed, Prattman!'

‘You've not met the Colonel before, Raif, have you?' Charles was asking in a low voice. ‘He came to Ravensworth once years back, but you were abroad – on duty in the West Indies, I think. Quite the politician, so I am told.'

Charles's pale skin highlighted his dark eyes which were particularly expressive. He threw a humorous look about the chamber.

‘Not a week in the district and you are taken up on suspicion of murder. I see you've made your mark.' The hand resting on Jarrett's shoulder gave it a friendly squeeze. ‘And you are well, Raif?' Though his manner was light-hearted, the dark eyes watched his friend closely. Jarrett's smile returned their warmth.

‘Well indeed. I have suffered nothing more than a sore leg, a damp night in gaol and bruised pride – which latter no doubt will be to my benefit, for I was careless in this affair.'

‘I doubt the foresight of Cassandra could have anticipated this. It is rather splendidly dramatic, though,' responded Charles, looking about the scene in a manner strongly reminiscent of an enthusiastic theatre-goer.

‘I hardly think the dead girl would share your enthusiasm, Charles,' Jarrett said dryly.

His companion's open face was fleetingly contrite. ‘Forgive me. You know I have no nerves or sensibilities. I hear the
victim was a girl of great beauty. Such a shame.' His agile mind leapt on to a new tack. ‘As to that – it seems you have made quite an impression among the ladies of this district, Raif.'

Jarrett, caught off guard, stiffened. ‘What can you mean? I was not acquainted with this Sally Grundy.'

‘No need to flare up at me, my boy. I wasn't referring to the laundry wench, but to another entirely respectable lady. One to whom you are indebted, it seems, for alerting Lady Catherine to your plight – now there is a formidable character. Extraordinary woman. One could not have dreamt her up in one's wildest fancies.'

‘Charles, your wanderings have lost me.' Jarrett was finding his friend's humour a trifle tiresome.

‘It was Lady Catherine who fetched the Colonel. The fetching female who fetched her was Miss Lonsdale. I merely happened to call conveniently on the Colonel as he was setting off. When I received your letter, it occurred to me that he might be a useful ally.'

‘Miss Lonsdale!'

‘Your astonishment is wasted on me, Raif. I would take it as a compliment that a maiden should ride to one's rescue – but then you can be such a strait-laced fellow where women are concerned.'

Jarrett ignored the jibe. ‘You have met Miss Lonsdale?'

‘But briefly, to my chagrin.' Charles sat bent forward, resting his chin on his cane and one elegantly clad leg stretched out, as his dark eyes took in the details of the council chamber. ‘At the inn as we arrived. Lady Catherine was assisting her in making arrangements to convey the cook and her dead relative. I am, however, in confident hope of pursuing the interesting acquaintance.' He slid a teasing side look at his friend. ‘I am invited to tea at Oakdene.' Charles laughed outright at his friend's face as he digested the news. ‘And so are you, Raif – just as soon as we are free of this affair. Lady
Catherine is all agog to hear details of this business and will not be denied.'

Over at the Justices' table the mulberry-coated figure of the lawyer was listening in silence to the Colonel's low-voiced monologue. The friends caught a glimpse of his speculative glance in their direction.

‘I presume that is our wild card?' Charles turned away to disguise a faint smile. ‘My entrance seems to have floored him.'

‘It was a good entrance.'

‘Did you like it? I thought perhaps the embrace was a touch overdone – we are after all an undemonstrative tribe, but I thought to reclaim you.'

‘I am deeply conscious of your patronage, my lord,' responded Jarrett. Charles buffeted him on the arm and they laughed like boys.

The Colonel completed his assessment of the clerk's record. Assuming a carrying public voice he made for the heart of the matter.

‘It would seem that the victim – this Sally Grundy – met her death between half past nine and eleven o'clock on the night of Wednesday last. Is that agreed, gentlemen?'

His fellow Justices acknowledged it was. The Colonel's eyes searched the crowd.

‘Which one is Turner the carter?' The sturdy little man stepped forward once more. ‘It seems no one has thought to ask you what time you saw this pair in Gainford last Tuesday, Turner. What time was that?'

Smiles were alien to Ned Turner's features, but his expression indicated that he approved of the Colonel. He answered the question with care.

‘It was in the afternoon, your honour. I always reach the green at Gainford between half past four and five on a Tuesday afternoon. Mrs Bridey at the Cat and Fiddle, she likes to remark on my punctuality. I was a touch early
that day for she remarked to me: You're prompt today, Mr Turner – it is barely half past four. I got down to unload my wagon and I saw them.'

‘Thank you, Turner. Well, gentlemen, the matter seems straightforward enough. Mr Jarrett,' the Colonel turned his attention to the agent, ‘where were you, sir, at half past four on Tuesday afternoon?'

‘I spent the day riding about the Duke's properties, Colonel. As I recollect, I left Mr Peart over at Spinney Top just before four o'clock that afternoon. Around half past the hour I should have been approaching Woolbridge.'

‘And did you pass anyone who might confirm this?'

‘I might have nodded to an acquaintance or two, but I do not recollect speaking to anyone.'

A voice spoke up. ‘I saw him.' A plump woman with a homely face edged out of the crowd. ‘Mary Tan, your honour.' She identified herself with a bob curtsey. ‘If you please, Mr Justice, sir, I saw the agent ride by. And so did Nathan Binks and Jeremy Fairley, for they were talking before Nathan's shop on the market. You remember, Nathan?' She addressed the watchmaker. ‘Jem said he hadn't seen His Grace's new agent and you said, there he is now. That was Tuesday afternoon but I couldn't swear to the time.'

Her uncertainty was soon supplemented by the testimony of the watchmaker. Nathan Binks came forward to declare that it was lacking ten minutes to five o'clock when the agent passed. He was certain of the hour for he was setting a mechanism at the time by the church clock.

The Colonel spread his blunt-fingered hands in a gesture expressive of the simplicity of it all. ‘There you are, gentlemen. If Mr Jarrett was in Woolbridge just before five o'clock there is no mortal means he could have been seen by Mr Turner at half past four in Gainford. There is clearly some other man who was consorting with the victim.' The Colonel went on briskly. ‘May I suggest that he is the man to seek.
Let us have a description drawn up and posted, offering the usual reward for information.'

‘One moment, Colonel.' The lawyer half-rose to claim the Colonel's attention. ‘There is still a matter that puzzles me.' He spoke as if the words he used were not his first choice. ‘These muddy clothes.' He drew attention to the pile of garments resting on the table. ‘Mr Jarrett agrees they are his, yet he will not explain why he was down by the river that night.'

‘Is this true, Mr Jarrett? You do not wish to offer an explanation?'

‘I beg your pardon, Colonel, but Mr Raistrick's unmannerly inquisition did not incline me to justify my actions as if I were some criminal. I can offer you no witness but I was fishing, sir.'

‘Fishing in the middle of a tempest, Mr Jarrett?' Raistrick was scornful.

‘The river was rising and so were the salmon,' responded Jarrett coolly.

It was fortunate perhaps that the Colonel, too, was of the angling fraternity. ‘Did you have good sport?' he asked with interest.

‘It was unusual sport, sir. Exhilarating. I caught a couple of fish of excellent size. I hung them at the back of my cottage, but I suspect they might have been taken.'

Constable Thaddaeus cleared his throat. ‘If I may speak, Colonel, Mr Justice, sir. I have the fish in my custody, your honour; a witness brought them to me for safe-keeping, there being many thieving rogues about and Mr Jarrett being from home, as you might say.'

‘If I may be permitted, Colonel, I believe there is another fact that points to my innocence, despite Mr Raistrick's suspicions.' Walking to the table, Jarrett picked up his muddy coat and spread it out before the lawyer. It was a wool coat, of a buff colour which the damp had darkened. ‘It is agreed,
I think, that the suspect in this crime had to pick the victim up to lay her on the ledge. Those of us who saw the body there can testify that blood was still seeping from the head. As you can see, the coat I wore last night is of a colour that would have been clearly stained, had I held a bloody corpse in my arms.' He could not resist holding out the coat under Raistrick's nose. ‘Examine it as closely as you wish, gentlemen. You will find no such stain.'

There was a silence as the chamber digested this. Raistrick sat back in his chair, his bold eyes cold.

‘Well, gentlemen,' declared the Colonel, ‘it would appear Mr Jarrett is owed an apology.' He addressed the agent in his most public voice. ‘Sir, you have been wronged. On behalf of the citizens of Woolbridge, I offer you our deepest regrets for the offence done to you. I hope you may find it possible to forgive the wayward zeal that gave rise to this misunderstanding, in view of the unusual tragedy that has visited here.'

Jarrett stood to return the patrician bow that accompanied the Colonel's words. ‘I accept the apology wholeheartedly, Colonel. May I in turn beg a favour from the bench? Conscious as I am of the depth of the desire to penetrate this mystery, I know too that the vestry is not a wealthy one and has not the funds to pursue an active investigation. I would be pleased to offer my services to the parish. For my own honour's sake, I will not be easy until the true author of this crime has been uncovered; for until that moment I cannot consider the shadow of this late suspicion against me entirely removed.'

‘A pretty speech!' snorted Raistrick.

The vestrymen however were charmed at the prospect of being saved the expense of raising a reward of perhaps as much as twenty pounds for information. Mr Jarrett's offer put them in excellent humour with the erstwhile suspect and there was a general ripple of comments on the agent's public-spiritedness. The Colonel picked up the mood.