The Spider's Touch (31 page)

As he was questioned further, it became fairly obvious that the murder had taken advantage of their conversation to come up behind Sir Humphrey, but with the curtain concealing any approach from that side, Mr. Wise had not noticed anyone there. He could say, however, that Sir Humphrey had been standing very close to the curtain even before he had been hailed.

His was the last testimony, and it left them all somber, even Isabella, Harrowby, and Mrs. Mayfield, for it underscored the gruesomeness of what they had witnessed. They were all permitted to leave, for, except for the knife, there was no evidence linking the murder to anyone from Hawkhurst House or even to one of Sir Humphrey’s guests, as the Lord Chief Justice was firm to instruct the jury.

Still, they could feel the accusations in the jurors’ eyes, as they followed Dudley from the hall.

To Hester, by far the saddest aspect of the case was that Sir Humphrey had been killed in the midst of his friends.

Chapter Fourteen

Together let us beat this ample field,

Try what the open, what the covert yield
...

I. intro.

The coroner’s verdict was murder by person or persons unknown. Sir Humphrey’s body was released, and the ladies from Hawkhurst House went to sit with his sister, Mrs. Jamison, in her house while his body was prepared for the journey to its burial place at his country estate in Bedfordshire.

Poor Mrs. Jamison had been sincerely fond of her brother, who had always taken pains for his widowed sister’s comfort. As she tearfully told her visitors, sitting in her modest parlour with its old-fashioned, leather-covered chairs, no brother could ever have been kinder. He had always remembered to send her the very best cuts of the venison, beef, and pork he had brought down from his estates, not to mention the fruit from his trees, and dozens of other little kindnesses throughout the year. Although their uncle’s grandson, who would inherit the baronetcy with the family estates, was not a bad sort, she feared his generosity towards her, a mere cousin, could never be expected to be the same as an older brother’s.

Hester, whose only brother had left home long ago to seek his fortune and had never returned, could readily appreciate the merit of a responsible brother. She expressed the hope that Sir Humphrey had left her with a pension of some sort.

Mrs. Jamison blew her nose, and said that, indeed, he had. “But it will not be the same as having him bring the gifts himself, as I’m sure you’ll allow.”

Hester’s heart went out to the woman. Mrs. Jamison was not crying just because she had lost a benefactor.

“Of course, it will not,” she said, patting the lady’s hand. “We shall all miss such a kind-hearted gentleman.”

Isabella’s eyes began to fill. Slow at first to accept the fact of Sir Humphrey’s demise, she had finally begun to grieve for him. And she had enough sympathy in her to be sorry for his sister.

Mrs. Mayfield broke in, “I know that Mayfield surely will. I vow he must feel the loss as much as anyone does, so much as he was looking forward to increasing his friendship with your brother.”

Mrs. Jamison bristled. The look she gave Mrs. Mayfield was full of resentment. But she did not release the retort that hovered visibly on her lips.

“My brother had a great many friends, ma’am, with friendships dating back quite a number of years. Your son was but a recent acquaintance.”

Her comment reminded Hester of something. “Did he ever speak of a Mr. Blackwell as his friend?” she asked.

Mrs. Jamison turned towards her with a perplexed look. “I do not recall that he ever did, but you must remember that we did not inhabit the same house. Humphrey must have had many acquaintances of which I knew nothing. Gentlemen do, you know, what with their coffee houses and their clubs and all the business they do.”

“I believe he was a very great friend of Lady Oglethorpe’s.”

“Yes—” Mrs. Jamison paused uncertainly, as if Hester’s question had unsettled her. Then she stammered— “but he saw her much less than you might think. They simply had many friends in common. But as far as his activities were concerned, my brother was much too occupied with the management of his estates and amusements in town to be much in touch with her.”

She seemed anxious to disassociate her brother from Lady Oglethorpe’s political activities. Hester thought it unfair to press her at the moment, but she wished she could question Mrs. Jamison more about her brother’s involvement in anything that might have put him in danger. With her aunt and cousin sitting with them, Hester knew it would be a great mistake to expose her curiosity. And, servant as she was, she would always have to be careful about putting herself forward.

For the moment Mrs. Mayfield was perfectly happy to let her guide the conversation, and, in fact, had brought her along to do just that. Although Hester’s aunt would never admit it, she had no talent or taste for giving consolation, so that was one of the many “unpleasant” chores she preferred to bestow on her niece. That Hester did not find it unpleasant, and on the contrary considered it important, her aunt missed entirey. So she was more than usually grateful to her today.

Hester inquired about the arrangements that had been made for Sir Humphrey’s funeral, and the result was a conversation in which Mrs. Mayfield and Isabella could both take part. Given the horrible cause of his death, which his cousin, the heir, seemed to think a shame on the family name, Sir Humphrey was to be interred within as short a time as was decently acceptable. Except for expressing a wish that he might have lain in state a trifle longer in London before being transported home, his sister seemed to accept the arrangement. She would not make the journey into Bedfordshire herself, of course, since it would only be proper for men to attend a gentleman’s funeral.

“His dearest friends will accompany him, of course. Lord Lovett and Colonel Potter have both promised to ride in the procession, and I do hope Lord Hawkhurst will find it in his heart to go.”

They could readily assure her of Harrowby’s intention, for he was feeling the loss of his friend very acutely at his morning levee. Sir Humphrey had fully shared Harrowby’s taste for the trivial and had never importuned him for favours as most of Harrowby’s early visitors did. After a few days without his cheerful presence, Harrowby had become very low in mind, indeed.

“We were grateful to Lord Lovett for taking charge after the events at the opera house,” Hester said. “I believe he was sincerely attached to your brother. He was certainly quite distressed.”

“Yes, he was. And he has been so kind—coming to tell me directly himself, and offering his services should I need them.”

“I did not know that Colonel Potter was also a close friend.”

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Jamison seemed certain. “The Colonel and Humphrey have been friends for the longest time. Their fathers knew each other, you see.”

“No, I did not know.”

Hester could see that her aunt and Isabella were beginning to grow impatient. They planned to go shopping right after this visit. Mrs. Mayfield was eager to try the famous Bavarian Red Liquor, which was supposed to give a delightful blush to the cheeks, and Isabella wanted to pick up a bottle of Dr. Stoughton’s Cordial Elixir. She had awakened that morning feeling nauseous and did not want a slight indisposition of the stomach to spoil her plans to go to the theatre that evening.

Since Mrs. Jamison had put a halt to her matchmaking for Dudley, it seemed unlikely that they would be seeing her much in future. Hester thought she might be allowed to call on the lady herself with the excuse of taking her a few pieces of fruit from the Hawkhurst gardens, but she had hoped to discover as much from her as possible now.

They said their goodbyes and made their way downstairs to the street. Feeling in her pocket for her gloves, Hester got a sudden inspiration and called out to her companions that she believed she had left one of her gloves upstairs.

Her aunt was put out, and her more charitable feelings for her niece vanished at once.

“You should be more careful,” she said. “I’ve a good mind to tell the coachman to drive off and leave you. It would serve you right for keeping the Countess waiting, and her not well.”

“I will not be more than a second,” Hester said, over her shoulder as she nimbly ran back up to Mrs. Jamison’s withdrawing room. Chances were that she would be back down before the two ladies were settled in the coach, but that would not stop Hester’s aunt from complaining that they had been inconvenienced in the extreme.

It was a price she was happy to pay, if she could only manage to extract something useful from Mrs. Jamison.

She found their hostess right where they had left her with the exception of the tray of sweetmeats now on her lap. She caught Mrs. Jamison, weeping, and in the process of delivering not one, but three pieces simultaneously to her mouth.

She was startled by Hester’s reappearance. She fumbled for her handkerchief, but did not seem to know whether she should wipe her eyes or her mouth first.

“Please do not allow me to disturb you,” Hester said, with a smite to her conscience. She knew how tempting sweets could be when one was upset. “I simply forgot my glove, so I would like to look for it. But you must go on as if I were not here.”

“No, I mustn’t.” The poor lady’s face crumpled again. “And, besides, eating these treats is not going to solve anything.”

Hester left off her pretense at searching and came around to sit close to Mrs. Jamison again. “You must not feel bad about eating them. Each of us must seek comfort where we find it. I know Sir Humphrey would not begrudge you the sweetmeats, not when he obviously enjoyed treating you himself.”

Her hostess gave a trembling smile. “No, he wouldn’t. Thank you, my dear. You are a kind young woman.” She made a visible effort to be brave, then her face crumpled again and she wailed, “If only he had not been taken so suddenly! But I should have expected it, you see, for I had noticed there was something troubling him, and it was not like Humphrey to be troubled.”

“What sort of thing?” Her statement was exactly what Hester had been hoping for. “What made you think he was troubled?”

“It was something in his demeanour. He seemed to be puzzled by something, and I think it made him unhappy at times—not always, mind you, or I would have been more worried. He was so happy to be treating his friends to the opera, for instance—oh!” As she recalled what had happened at the opera, Sir Humphrey’s sister was nearly overcome again.

“Do you think that, whatever it was, it had been resolved by Saturday night?”

Mrs. Jamison shook her head. “I really couldn’t say. My brother was easily distracted, you know. He had a very hard time being distressed about anything for long. He might simply have forgotten it for the while, but it might have been. I saw him that day at dinner and he seemed very cheerful indeed.”

“Do you remember when you first noticed that he was troubled?”

She tried to think, but it was soon clear that she could not be certain. “I know it was before we came to play cards at Hawkhurst House. I am sure of that. But how much longer before it, I couldn’t say.”

“And Sir Humphrey made no mention of anyone’s name? He said nothing to give you the slightest hint of what was occupying his mind?”

“Oh, no. He wouldn’t have wanted to tell his younger sister now, would he? Gentlemen do not place a great deal of confidence in their younger sisters.”

“I am afraid I wouldn’t know about that myself,” Hester said, remembering how thoroughly the opposite her brother had been. Jeremy had talked about his complaints and concerns with her almost incessantly it had seemed. But he was younger, not older.

By the time she did descend the stairs again, her aunt and cousin were well-ensconced in their carriage, and Mrs. Mayfield was fuming.

“I cannot imagine what took you so long, Hester,” she scolded. “If your glove was that hard to find, then perhaps you should be wearing spectacles.” Clearly she thought that this was the cruelest thing she could say to a female.

Hester apologized, but as she took her seat facing them, she did not trouble to make any excuses. And her aunt felt free to abuse her all the way to Mr. Paryn’s Toyshop in St. Paul’s Churchyard where the Bavarian Red Liquor was to be found.

* * * *

Tom found his master at the White Horse after a long two days’ drive. St. Mars gave him and Katy a short break to eat, before he led them across London Bridge to their new house.

The moment Tom saw it, he did not know whether to grumble or cheer. The house was in need of a touch of work, but it was decent enough. The problem was he believed its situation to be much too dangerous. But tired of lodging at the Fox and Goose, where he had to fight with Lade nearly every day, he could hardly keep from relishing the idea of an establishment of their own.

Katy seemed happy, if overwhelmed. She still did not know why Mr. Brown had sent for her, and neither did Tom. It was something they had discussed only tentatively on their long journey up from Pigden, but all that Tom had been able to tell her was that the master would never ask her to do anything that wasn’t fair.

“Fair to who?” she had asked. “Gen’lmens don’t always think the same things are fair that women do. There’s not a man in a thousand who would give tuppence to know how I felt about anything.”

Tom was taken aback. “Well, his lordship would, and that’s a fact.”

“His lordship?” Katy’s eyes grew round.

Tom bit his tongue and cursed himself for a gape-faced fool. He couldn’t imagine how he had allowed a slip like that.

“I meant the master.” Then he lied, “Before I worked for him, I used to work for a lord over by Hawkhurst, and sometimes I forget and call this one ‘his lordship’.”

“Oh.” She seemed ready enough to believe him, though she had tossed him a curious look.

And Tom had done his best to hide his relief when she said nothing more about it.

Now they were both looking at the ground floor in their new home. But their home for how long? If the Fox and Goose had seemed small and isolated, even with Lade, Avis, and the men who came to drink in Lade’s taproom, how much tighter and cosier would this one be, with only Katy and himself to sleep downstairs, keeping house for St. Mars—like an old married pair—and to be stranded together and alone, whenever the master decided to go out?