A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) Page 18

  Gil had often been in the fortunate position of living in a large and rambling vicarage, but in his early years as a vicar, he had rarely had them filled to capacity. Fortunately he was a far more gregarious soul than his brother and enjoyed company, especially since his own internal loneliness had been eased by meeting and falling in love with the congenial Cara, who had been raised in the household of an Earl and Countess and could be relied upon to enjoy a party.

  Prue and Minta, though older in years than William and Edward, were even so delighted to have other children to play with and they all went off quite happily to the nursery in the company of Ruth the nursemaid. Will was relieved that they had recovered so swiftly from the nightmare journey they had so recently endured. He was feeling rather less inclined to bounce so jauntily back and wanted nothing more than a few moments to himself. With this in mind, he declared his intention of taking a look at the shop premises, alone, so that he could take stock and decide how he was going to set out his own goods.

  Underwood had just arrived to accompany Verity home, having made good his escape from Jeremy James, Petch and the Wablers, who looked all set to make a night of it, though it was barely five in the afternoon. He had failed to find her at the shop, but Mrs Simpson had helpfully left her own counter to inform him that the party had decamped to the vicarage for tea, or so she presumed.

  Tea was not on offer as the ladies were all fluttering about the place, deciding upon who was to sleep where, and which bed linen to use upon which beds.

  Since he could see that Verity was not only still busy, but also in her element helping to organize the entire household, even though it was not her own, Underwood offered to accompany Will to the shop. He had yet to view it and was interested in seeing for himself what had been occupying his wife for the past week or more.

  Will gladly accepted the offer. He knew Underwood was the one man he could trust not to bother him with endless questions and comments.

  As if to prove it, they maintained a companionable silence as they walked down the street and turned the corner into Back Lane, which, as its name suggested, was just off the main highway, on a charmingly cobbled and narrow thoroughfare of ancient aspect, with small, bow-fronted shops along one side and cottages on the other. Will’s new premises was double-fronted with a low door in the middle and since it took up the same floor space above and stretched to a small attic under the eaves, it was quite large enough for his family and servants, for Lucy had also agreed to accompany them in the end, after much wailing and heart-searching about leaving her home town and the young man she had set her cap at – though it was rather doubtful that he was similarly interested. She was to follow on the stagecoach in a few days’ time when she had finished cleaning the cottage, and had visited her only relation, an elderly aunt, and then said goodbye to her prospective lover. The true reason for this delay was to give the young man a chance to come to the point and propose, so that she had no cause to follow her employers to Hanbury. It had not yet happened, but she lived in hope.

  Once he had unlocked the door and walked into the shop, Will stood, aghast, and looked helplessly around, “Oh dear God,” he murmured under his breath.

  Underwood assumed it was the layer of dust and dirt that appalled his friend, for he was none too happy to observe festoons of cobwebs and the way some wag had written their name in the filth on the shop counter.

  “Cheer up, Will, the ladies will soon have the place sparkling,” he said, with more conviction than he felt.

  “That is not the problem, Mr Underwood,” said Will despairingly, “No one told me that the previous owner was a chemist. I assumed he was a perfumer or some such. Some of these bottles have highly dangerous contents. There are poisons here, acids, and all sorts of horrid toxins. I cannot believe that the owner did not have it all properly disposed of when the old man died.”

  “Can you not throw it all out?” asked Underwood, determined to calm the obviously agitated apothecary.

  “Absolutely not!” exclaimed Will, truly horrified. “Only think if any of this stuff fell into the wrong hands? Children playing might find it, animals searching for food might come across it. No, no, it must be disposed of safely.”

  “I quite see that,” said Underwood attempting to placate. No one knew better than him what those ‘wrong hands’ might infer. He was more concerned with deliberate acts of murder than theoretical ‘children and animals’. “But what is to be done? This is obviously far too dangerous a place to bring your family.”

  “I cannot presume upon your good brother for too long, but equally I cannot risk bringing my girls here. They could not be trusted to know the difference between harmless concoctions and these. I could not find rest if I thought they might be exposed to danger, but they are big girls now, and inquisitive. If we were to take our eyes off them for but a few seconds, the consequence could be disastrous.”

  “I quite see that. How long will it take to find a safe way to dispose of this stuff?”

  Will shrugged hopelessly, “I would not even begin to know how to do it. I have never handled half this stuff. My shop is a place of remedy and prevention and though I do carry some poisons, for killing rats and lice and such pests, I have no experience of such as these.”

  “What about a strong cupboard or chest that can be locked securely?” suggested Underwood.

  Will looked relieved at being presented with such a sensible solution, “Of course! I shall go directly and find something suitable. And this door must stay locked until I have done so. Thank you Mr Underwood, you have been most helpful. I was never nearer to putting my daughters straight back on the stage back to West Wimpleford – and who knows what we would find? We have burnt our boats there, I fear, for all Captain Petch’s generosity.”

  The two gentlemen left the shop together, Will going off down the high street in search of a strong box or lockable cupboard and Underwood returning to the vicarage, determined this time to bear his wife off home. They had left their children in the charge of Toby and his young wife for quite long enough. Underwood preferred not to trust Sabrina at all with his progeny, but Verity was adamant that she had paid her penance and would never again transgress. Faced with Toby’s tacit pleas for forgiveness and Verity’s voluble demands for understanding, he had not much choice but to accept Sabrina as part of his household, but he would never be truly happy about it.

  In the gig and heading for Windward House, Underwood confided to Verity about the poisons left in the chemist shop and Will’s worry about their disposal. She looked concerned and remarked with deep feeling, “Thank heaven Will came to Hanbury when he did. When we ladies had finished cleaning the rooms upstairs, ready for the family to live in, we would surely have turned our attention to the shop. I dread to think what might have happened. Martha has been brutal in burning the old furniture and fittings, and throwing what can’t be burned into the midden. I fear she would simply have tossed all those bottles away, never heeding what they contained. I believe Will may have averted a disaster.”

  “Let us pray that he has,” murmured Underwood. There was something about the notion of dozens of containers of hazardous substances that unnerved him, though he tried to tell himself that he was being unnecessarily disconcerted. Will now had the bottles under lock and key and he was a sensible man. He would soon discover how he could safely discard the unwanted stuff.

  Unwilling to allow his wife to know of his worries, he quickly changed the subject.

  “Do we attend the dance on Saturday evening? Jeremy James was asking and I assumed you would wish to go.” There was a note of hopefulness in his tone which suggested to Verity that he would happily forego the pleasure, but she was far too canny now to rise to that sort of bait. She had been cautioned by both her brother-in-law and his mother that she must never allow Underwood to wheedle her into always falling in with his wishes. They declared that he was quite selfish enough without her adding to their burden by indulging his every whim. Even after severa
l years of marriage, she was still quite as enchanted by his company as she had been in the first flush of romance – more indeed, for their courtship had run a rocky course – and she found it very difficult to deny him anything, but she was ever aware that something too easily won was bound to be despised, so she occasionally steeled herself to gainsay him.

  “But, of course,” she declared roundly, “I have been looking forward to it for weeks. I know that Francis and Ellen and Cara and Gil are planning to go. Cara confided just before we left the vicarage that she feels she must let Will and Martha come with them, along with poor little Violette, for heaven knows they will get few chances to enjoy themselves once the shop is open for business.”

  “True enough,” said Underwood thoughtfully. “I must say, I was surprised to see the change in young Violette. She is dashed pretty now that the swelling caused by that rotting tooth has subsided.”

  Verity glanced sideways at him, her brow raised, “Oh really? And what, pray, were you, a married man, about, mooning over young ladies?”

  “Mooning! Gad, you insult me, my dear. I was never inclined towards mooning even in my salad days, much less now in my dotage. However, I am not so far gone that I can’t look at a pretty wench and appreciate her.”

  “Wrong answer, Mr Underwood,” said his wife severely.

  “She is, of course, not a patch upon your more mature beauty, my love,” he added judiciously.

  “More mature? Have a care, sir, for if you dare to add the word ‘matronly’ to that epithet, I swear you’ll find yourself bundled into the hedge and have to find your own way home!”

  They laughed and he kissed her, “I never knew I was wed to such a fiery creature,” he said, “I think perhaps I like it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  (Extract from a journal discovered by CH Underwood, Winter 1829)

  We laid our plans meticulously.

  At first X wanted to be the one to kill him, to protect me if things should go wrong, but I was adamant in my refusal – he was my blood and only I had the right to spill it.

  But how to give me an alibi? The crime must never rebound on either of us, or what would be the point? The only revenge worth having was to walk free after his death – anything else was unthinkable.

  We laboured over the puzzle for days, growing more restive with every passing hour, then X had an ingenious notion.

  In the early morning on the day the deed was to be done, before anyone else was stirring, a length of fine thread was to be fastened to the bell which hung on a board above the kitchen door. Through a series of hidden wires throughout the house, these bells indicated which occupant of any room desired service. This one was for my bedroom. The cotton was guided carefully around the door frame so that it was all but invisible to the casual observer.

  That evening I would go to my bed early, pleading one of my all too frequent debilitating headaches and making sure that as many of the servants as possible heard my complaints and could swear that I had spent the night in bed, and unwell.

  My father could be relied upon to wend his drunken way home at around eleven, and so just before that hour I crept out of the front door – the back was too near the kitchens and I might possibly be seen - and walked silently up the lane which led to the house. Once well out of earshot I hid behind the hedge and waited.

  He would be on foot for the last few yards for he was ever careful of his reputation – not for anything would he allow the hired carriage driver know where he went after he left his whores and his gambling dens. He would never risk allowing a breath of scandal to tarnish his good name. He thought such measures kept him safe – they had done so for many years - but that run of luck was about to end.

  At last I heard his faltering gait and I stepped out in front of him, my pistol in my outstretched hand, aimed directly at his heart.

  He was startled for a moment until his blurred gaze grew used to the silver light of the full moon, then he laughed as he recognized me.

  “Get out of my way, you imbecile, and put that gun away. How dare you leave the house without my permission? You’ll pay dearly for this tomorrow, take my word upon it!”

  “There will be no tomorrow for you, father.” I told him, my voice was as steady as my hand, for suddenly I was no longer afraid of him.

  He began to stagger towards me, a leering grin upon his face, “You don’t have the courage to do me any harm,” he said.

  It was to be the last time he sneered at me.

  The shot seemed preternaturally loud in the night.

  He sank to his knees, shock fighting with fury as he realized I had defied him, his hands clutching at his blood soaked breeches.

  He was not dead. That was never my intention, though I had not confided that to X. I had aimed at that part of his anatomy which had been my torment and would now be his, for I fully intended to keep him alive a while yet, to inflict a little of the torture upon him that he had visited so often upon me.

  When he realized what I had done, he tried to laugh again, but it was an effort, and I almost admired his animal courage, “You should have killed me. I’ll see you hang for this.”

  “Oh, you are going to die, but not just yet.” I answered and calmly reloaded my pistol, talking all the while, telling him what was to happen next. “But I’ll not hang for it. My darling X is just now answering the summons of my room bell. All the servants will hear it ring and see it responded to, for I am safe in bed, ill and irascible.”

  He looked stunned, “How? If you have a stooge in your room to ring the bell for you, then you are a fool, for they will take you for every penny you have to keep your secret.” His breath was coming in gasps now and I could see the pain was beginning to bite. At first shock had protected him from sensation, but now the sweat stood out on his brow.

  “There is no need for anyone but me and X. Standing in the doorway of the Servant’s Hall, listening for my summons, there will be a sharp tug on a length of cotton, which will simultaneously jangle the bell, then snap, leaving no trace of the trick. X will rush to my wildly ringing bell, afraid that I am seriously ill. According to the other staff, we will both have been in my room when the hour of your death becomes known.”

  He looked disconcerted for a moment, then he forced another laugh, “Ah, but what you don’t know is that I have willed every penny to a distant cousin and away from you. He will control you as I always have – you have swapped one master for another!”

  It was my turn to give way to mirth, “You think that I want your money? You are wrong! If you had left me your riches, I might have been tempted to stay in that cursed house and spend my ill-gotten gains, ever grateful to you for your bounty but in doing me this disfavour, you have set me free! I can live my life as I want, and never give you another thought, except occasionally to enjoy the knowledge that you rot in hell!”

  From the very first moment we had made our plan it had been my fantasy that when I finally had him at my mercy that I would make him kneel and beg for compassion and for forgiveness, but as I looked into his eyes I saw nothing but cold, implacable hatred. He would never apologise and I would merely torture and demean myself by asking it of him. He would laugh at my need to hear him say he was sorry for my suffering – and so I would not give him the satisfaction.

  I raised my pistol and shot him squarely between the eyes, leaving a gaping hole through which his blood and brains spattered as he fell backwards.

  I hastened to search his pockets to take whatever I could to preserve the illusion of robbery, a part of my mind amazed at my own coolness – perhaps I had inherited more of his character than I wanted to believe.

  Then I went home and sneaked back into my room, meeting no one, until I found X waiting for me, whereupon we fell into each other’s arms and I knew I was nothing like him, for I could feel love, which he could never have experienced.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ‘Populus Vult Decipi, Ergo Decipiatur’ – The public wishes to be taken in
, therefore let it be taken in

  The arrival of General and Mrs Milner on Saturday morning completed the party and so it was with high spirits that Jeremy James and Adeline greeted the Underwood family and friends as they entered the Assembly Rooms that evening. In fact the ball was supposedly a public affair, but the major had so many guests with him that it had become almost a private engagement.

  Even the occasionally less than filial Underwood could not help but be gratified at having his nearest and dearest by him – especially since the meeting was to take place under someone else’s roof and thereby absolved him of any responsibility for their enjoyment.

  At once they annexed one of the many alcoves for themselves, making sure that it contained a settee – some areas had only uncomfortable, high back chairs and Mrs Milner was of an age that deserved some small luxuries.

  Martha Jebson was barely able to contain her glee for she was finally mixing with a better class of person than mere shop-keepers, as she had always considered her ineffable right. She was even condescendingly pleasant to Violette, who, in her borrowed finery, looked rather overwhelmed by the sparkling gaiety of both the venue and the company.

  Hanbury’s Assembly Rooms were quite as fine as the Pump Rooms, but rather less utilized in general, as the population tended to be both aging and enfeebled and their attendant young relatives and companions were given to understand that they were not in the spa town for their own jollity, but to give succour to their invalids.

  Jeremy James’ birthday had given the sedate little town a whole new lease of life. Tonight every inch glowed with the light of a thousand candles, some in chandeliers hanging from the ornately plastered ceilings, some in sconces and candelabra and all reflected in the full length mirrors. These were richly framed and adorned the walls between each of the arched alcoves which held those who were not taking part in the dancing, but from whence they could watch those who had taken to the floor. At the far end were huge double doors which let onto another hall, which contained the supper tables, where one could purchase a light repast of cold meats, pies and cakes for sixpence, and choose from several beverages, including claret-cup, punch and tea for the ladies. The gentlemen, of course, had access to far more masculine entertainments; as well as separate rooms where they could indulge in various forms of gambling, mostly card games, they could also imbibe much stronger alcohol than the watered down offerings with which the ladies had to be satisfied.