The Viscount's Unconventional Bride Page 2

  They were all very different men, both in background and temperament, but they worked well as a team and Jonathan was pleased to be counted one of their number. Sometimes they were joined by Sir John Fielding, London’s Chief Magistrate. Blind as he was, he had a fearsome reputation and it was said he could recognise any number of thieves by the sound of their voices. Today he had other duties, probably to do with Earl Ferrers.

  ‘I am sorry I am late,’ Jonathan said. ‘But there’s no getting through the traffic today. I never saw such a sight. Ferrers has the whole capital in a ferment. You would never think he was riding to his death.’

  ‘At least that is one more criminal who has received his just deserts,’ Ash said. ‘And I, for one, am glad to see the law deal even-handedly, no matter what rank the accused holds. There should not be one law for the rich and another for the poor…’

  ‘We all concur in that,’ James said. ‘But can we get on? I intend to set off for Blackfen Manor tonight. Amy will soon be brought to bed with our fourth and I wish to be there when it happens, even if it is only pacing the corridors. Now, Ash, what have you to report?’

  ‘The City is quiet again after the latest onslaught of the mob, intent on pulling down the dwellings of the Irish labourers,’ Sir Ashley told them. ‘It was all stirred up by a building labourer who had been discharged as a troublemaker. He roused them to fury, but once I had him in custody and talked to his followers they dispersed and no real harm done, except a few bloody noses. But I will keep an eye on things.’

  ‘Good. What about you, Harry?’ James queried.

  Harry stopped examining his beautifully manicured nails to answer him. ‘Jed Black has escaped from Newgate again. That man is as slippery as an eel and should have been hanged long ago.’

  ‘What’s his crime?’ Alex asked. Being new to the group, he did not know the story behind some of their operations.

  ‘He’s a notorious coiner and murderer,’ Harry explained. ‘Head of a gang. I had a hand in his arrest some weeks ago. He has a crafty lawyer who keeps finding reasons to delay his trial and he is not prepared to languish in prison when he has a lucrative operation waiting for him to return to it. He escaped once before and a devil of a job it was to track him down and have him taken up again. Now it’s all to do again.’

  ‘Do what you can,’ James said. ‘The man is dangerous and must be brought to book.’

  ‘Ten to one he had accomplices on the outside and bribed the guard,’ Harry went on. ‘I plan to go to the gaol and question the warders and the man’s fellow prisoners.’

  ‘He’s too fly to go to ground in his usual haunts,’ Sam put in. ‘Do you want me to help?’

  ‘Yes, if it’s agreeable to you, James.’

  ‘By all means.’ James turned to Jonathan. ‘Jonathan, what about you?’

  ‘Acting on information received, I recovered most of Lord Besthorpe’s property and returned it to him and no harm done,’ Jonathan reported.

  ‘By that I suppose you mean you did not arrest the perpetrator?’

  ‘No. He was a skinny little urchin. Couldn’t bring myself to hand him in.’

  James laughed, remembering how he had done the same thing himself years ago and saved Joseph Potton from a life of crime. The lad had grown into a fine upstanding young man who now worked for Jonathan.

  ‘The nipper was used by others to climb into a tiny window at his lordship’s house,’ Jonathan went on. ‘I came up with them while they were dividing the spoils and the men made good their escape, leaving the bratling to carry the can, but I will unearth them. The boy gave me their names in exchange for his freedom…’

  It was then Luke Vail interrupted the meeting, having begged the man on the door to let him in. He doffed his hat, bowed to everyone, then addressed himself to Jonathan. ‘My lord, I need your help urgently. My sister, Louise, has disappeared. We, that is the family, are beside ourselves with worry. I heard you were a member of the Gentleman’s Club that likes to solve mysteries and it seemed to me you might consent to help find her.’

  Jonathan studied him care fully. The young man was dressed in the sombre clothes of a cleric, which sat ill on his broad, athletic figure and youthful good looks. ‘I know you, do I not?’

  ‘Yes, my lord, I am Luke Vail. We were at the same school, though not in the same year. My father is the vicar of Chipping Barnet, hard by your father’s estate. I am to take up a curacy in Bedfordshire in two weeks.’

  ‘Louise, you say,’ Jonathan said. ‘I seem to remember seeing her once when I attended your father’s church. We go to St Saviour’s as a rule. She was a pretty little thing.’

  ‘She is not a little thing now, my lord, she is twenty and the apple of my father’s eye, being the only girl in the family.’

  ‘When did she disappear?’ James asked. ‘Under what circumstances?’

  ‘Yesterday afternoon when everyone was out of the house. My mother came home from shopping to find her missing. Her gardening apron and gloves and the little fork she used for weeding had been flung down on the flower bed and abandoned. It is not like her to be so untidy; she usually puts them away in the potting shed before she goes indoors. I questioned all the servants and our young gardener told me he had seen her running down the garden path as if the hounds of hell were after her—his words, not mine. He said she sat in the arbour at the bottom of the garden for some time, then suddenly got up and ran back into the house. Later he saw her leaving with a small portmanteau…’

  ‘She has run away with a lover, perhaps?’ Ash put in.

  ‘Certainly not!’ Luke was indignant. ‘She would not, even if such a person existed, which he does not.’

  ‘Did the gardener speak to her?’ Jonathan asked.

  ‘No, he said it was not his place to question the young mistress and she frequently went into the village carrying a basket of provisions or a bag of clothes and such like to be given to the poor families. She is well known for it and he thought nothing of it.’

  ‘Then has she gone visiting friends?’ James asked. ‘Have you enquired?’

  ‘Certainly I have. No one has seen her.’

  ‘Did you enquire if she had boarded a coach?’ James asked.

  ‘Yes, it was one of the first things I did. No one saw her and everyone knows her in the village, so if she had done such a thing it would have been noted. Her horse is still in the stable. I rode to my brother Matthew’s house about three miles distant, in case she had taken it into her head to visit him. She was not there nor had been. No one had seen her. I searched the roadside in both directions in case she had met with an accident, but to no avail. She had not been to Mark’s either. He is another brother and has a living near Rickmansworth, though how she would have gone to him I have no idea. Someone would have had to take her. He had seen nothing of her. We do not know what to do next. My mother is distraught.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ James said. ‘And she left no clue as to her intentions?’

  ‘No, though she did leave a note telling our parents not to worry and she would soon be back…’

  ‘There! I said she had run away with a lover,’ Ash said.

  ‘No, she has not. I wish you would treat the matter seriously.’

  ‘We are treating it seriously,’ James assured him. ‘But we exist to track down criminals. If no crime has been committed…’

  ‘Please make an exception in this case. She would not willingly have worried our parents by staying away all night. We think something dreadful must have happened to her. Help us to find her, I beg of you,’ Luke said desperately.

  ‘This seems like a job for you, Jonathan,’ James said at last. ‘But you must lose no time or the trail will have gone cold.’

  Jonathan rose to obey. ‘How did you arrive here?’ he asked Luke.

  ‘I rode.’

  ‘Good. I will ride back with you at once. Let us hope the crowds are not so thick now…’

  They could not ride side by side until they had passed t
he Tyburn gibbet. The hanging had been accomplished and the body taken down, but some of the crowd still milled about, talking about it, buying mementoes, waiting to see if there would be any other convicts to meet the same fate. There was usually more than one dispatched on hanging days. As soon as they were on the open road and the noise behind them had faded to a distant hum, Jonathan questioned Luke more closely about his sister’s disappearance. Had anything happened to trigger it off? Had she been unhappy at home? Had she expressed a desire to visit friends or relations? To all of which the young man was non-committal. And when he asked for a description of Louise, the only reply Luke made was, ‘Oh, she is beautiful.’

  ‘That is not much help. What does she look like? Is she tall or short? Fat or thin? What is the colour of her hair and her eyes?’ He still had that hazy memory of the little girl in church, in a blue dimity dress with a huge blue bow in her hair. It had been thick, curly hair, he recalled.

  ‘She is tall for a woman, I suppose, and slim. Her hair is brown, but not an ordinary brown. It has a special sheen to it. Her eyes are…’ He stopped to think. ‘Green, I think. Or perhaps they are brown. Do you know, I cannot be sure.’

  ‘No distinguishing features?’

  ‘She don’t wear patches. Nor powder. Nor a wig. Don’t need ’em.’

  It was as much as he could expect; brothers never were very observant when it came to sisters, though they might describe their mistresses perfectly well.

  When they arrived at the Barnet vicarage, he was greeted by a sombre cleric and a woman beside herself with grief. He was of average height and breadth, wearing a bag wig and spectacles. She was approaching fifty, a small, neat woman, with greying hair and pale greeny-grey eyes. The pair appeared to be out of sorts with each other, but endeavoured to set aside their differences to offer him refreshment and answer his questions. They could only repeat what Luke had told him, that Louise intended to go because she had left a note, but that was understandable since everyone was out and would wonder what had become of her; it only said she would not be gone long and would soon be back. They did not, for a moment, believe she meant to worry them to death. She was a madcap, always ready for adventure, her brothers had seen to that, but that did not mean she was unfeeling. She would not hurt a fly, let alone her family, all of whom loved her.

  ‘Might I see the letter?’ he asked.

  Mrs Vail fetched it for him. It was very creased and tear-stained. Dearest Mama and Papa, they say eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves, but I could not help listening, so you will understand why I have to make this journey, but I shall not be gone long, so do not worry about me. I promise I will be back as soon as I can. Your very affectionate Louise.

  ‘What was it she over heard?’ he asked.

  ‘It was nothing,’ Mrs Vail said. ‘My husband and I were talking. The window was open and she was weeding the flower bed. We had no idea she was there.’

  ‘Whatever it was would have made her unhappy?’

  Husband and wife looked at each other as if unwilling to answer and it was left to Luke to reply. ‘She was always cheerful. She had nothing to be unhappy about.’

  Jonathan felt sure they were hiding something; Mrs Vail was particularly uneasy. ‘What time did you go out and what time did you return?’

  ‘It was the middle of the morning,’ the Reverend said. ‘I had to visit a parishioner who was dying and took the gig. I gave my wife a lift into Barnet to do some shopping and arranged to meet her at a friend’s house to bring her home. It was about five in the afternoon when we returned.’

  ‘And young Mr Vail?’ Jonathan queried, turning to Luke.

  ‘I was out riding. I arrived home just before my parents, but I did not think anything about Louise being missing, until my mother became worried.’

  ‘So the house was empty for five hours. May I question the servants?’

  ‘Certainly, you may,’ the Reverend told him. But I have already spoken to them all myself.’

  ‘I am sure you have, but they might have remembered something more.’

  Jonathan swallowed the tea he had been given while the servants were summoned. One by one they denied any knowledge of Louise’s whereabouts or any intention she might have had to leave home. He asked and was given permission to examine the garden and speak to the outside servants. A young man weeding a flower bed looked up as he approached. He assumed he was the young gardener Luke had mentioned.

  ‘I believe you saw Miss Vail before she left,’ he said. ‘I have been asked by the Reverend to help find her.’

  ‘Yes. She was acting strange and so I told them, but I never spoke to her. I wish I had, ’cos when I went home I discovered my sister had disappeared too.’

  ‘Your sister? Do you think they are together?’

  ‘I reckon they must be. Miss Vail would never be so foolish as to go anywhere but the village all on her own. An’ Betty left a note sayin’ she was goin’ on an adventure an’ it was a great secret and I wasn’t to tell a soul, but when I saw ’ow worried Mistress Vail was, o’ course I told her. It seemed to ease her mind. It vexes me, that it does. Betty shouldn’t never ’ave agreed to go, and I’m worried about her too.’

  ‘You did right to speak out. How many outdoor servants are there here?’

  ‘Only me and the coachman, Jaggers. You’ll find ’im in the stables.’ He pointed in the direction of a group of outbuildings.

  Jaggers, it appeared, had been with the family man and boy and he could tell his lordship all about the boys and their little sister. ‘Spoiled, she were,’ he said, ‘though not in bad way. She was the sunniest little thing you could imagine and a welcome daughter after three boys. They treated her like one o’ theirselves, always ready for mischief and for a dare.’

  ‘They have not always lived at Chipping Barnet, have they? I seem to remember an earlier incumbent when I was a boy.’

  ‘They come from Yorkshire. I were with them then, came along o’ them when they moved. Drove the carriage for them.’

  ‘Whereabouts in Yorkshire?

  ‘Moresdale.’

  ‘Could Miss Vail have gone there?’

  The old man shrugged. ‘She were askin’ me about it earlier in the day, but then she was always full o’ questions. I didn’t think anything of it.’

  ‘When? What time?’

  ‘About noon, as near as I c’n say.’

  ‘Was she agitated?’

  ‘No, just talking, as if she were interested like, while she groomed her mare.’

  ‘But she didn’t take the mare out?’

  ‘No. An’ she couldn’t ’ave asked for the gig because the Reverend had it out.’

  ‘So, either she was walking or she meant to take the stage.’

  ‘If she have bin so foolish as to attempt the stage, I fear for her, that I do, what with the terrible state of the roads and the chance of being attacked and robbed. I hopes you can fetch her back and no harm done, my lord.’

  Jonathan thanked him and returned to the house where he found Mrs Vail alone in the parlour. ‘Ma’am, I have just been speaking to your coachman. He tells me that you moved here from Moresdale.’

  ‘Yes, we did. Fifteen years ago now.’

  ‘Do you think your daughter might be at tempting to go back there?’

  ‘She does not know where it is. She was only five when we moved down here. I doubt she would remember it. And why would she want to go back there?’

  ‘I do not know, but perhaps you might hazard a guess?’ It was said meaningfully. ‘Why, for instance, did she abandon her gardening clothes on the flower bed? It seems to me that something startled her. Can you tell me what that could have been?’

  ‘No, my lord.’

  ‘Cannot or will not?’

  ‘Cannot. I beg you not to ask.’

  The lady was so nervous, Jonathan was sure she was hiding something. ‘Madam, I will do what I can to find your daughter, but it is necessary for me to know everything, you understand? I c
annot work in the dark.’

  ‘My lord, forgive me, I am not myself.’ She seemed to gather herself with an effort of will. ‘All I can tell you is that we were talking of the place where Louise was born and that might have aroused her curiosity, but I can hardly believe she would try to go there. She has never travelled anywhere on her own before. It is two hundred miles away and goodness knows what at the end of it—’ She stopped suddenly as if conjuring up some dreadful calamity in her mind’s eye that she could not put into words.

  He decided she was afraid of something else beside the hazards of the journey. ‘Nevertheless, you do believe that is where she is heading?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ It was said reluctantly.

  ‘Does she have any money? She will not go far without it.’

  ‘The Reverend gives her pin money…’

  ‘How far will that take her?’

  ‘I do not know. She has little reason to spend it. Furbelows and fancy ribbons never appealed to her, so she may have a little saved. And…’ She stopped and swallowed hard. ‘I fear she sometimes plays cards with Luke and his friends and is always boasting of how much she has won.’

  He almost laughed aloud at the thought of a vicar’s daughter gambling, but re strained himself. It was not a time for laughter. ‘How much has she won?’

  ‘I have no idea. It is only a little fun, but if my husband were to hear of it he would be very angry. I cannot think it amounts to more than a few shillings.’ She was unhappy about his questioning and wished to bring it to an end. ‘Go after her, my lord, please, bring her safely back to us.’

  ‘I will do what I can to find her, but short of tying her up and carrying her off, I cannot force her to return, you understand.’

  ‘Yes, but do your best to persuade her, I beg you. But whatever you do, please see she comes to no harm.’

  He was still not completely satisfied, but he did not think he would get anything more out of her and took his leave. Finding runaway daughters was not the sort of thing the Club took on, but there was no time to go back and consult James, who in any case had gone home to be with his family, so it was up to him to decide whether to proceed. There was a mystery here and if the law had been broken, then that was reason enough. Besides, he was intrigued.