Death in Hellfire (33 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

H
e hurried over to where they had been sitting, noticing as he did so that Lord Orpington was also missing. Quickly, he made his way to Sir Francis Dashwood, who by now was extremely merry, his dark eyes flashing over all the women, his hands wandering wherever they could.

“Excuse me, Sir Francis, have you seen the Ladies Arundel and Bravo?”

Sir Francis turned to him in slight annoyance, busy as he was chatting to the young virgin at whom John had accidentally winked.

“No, I haven’t. I expect they’ve stepped outside for a breath of air.”

John went out through the east portico and anxiously looked around him. Several people had wandered into the warm summer night to cool off after the hectic activity inside, and one or two were making for the shelter of the trees for purposes private. But of the missing women there was no sign at all. Turning back into the house, John sought out Joe Jago, who was leaning against the wall, looking around him with a shrewd but benevolent gaze.

“Joe, Coralie and Juliana have gone somewhere and I cannot see them. I intend to look for them.”

“Very good, Mr Rawlings. I’ll come with you.”

“I was hoping you would say that.”

They went outside once more and Joe scanned the distance with a light blue eye.

“Can’t see ‘em, sir. Shall we walk down to the lake and search there?”

“Good idea.”

They hurried down the slope to hear a pair of heavy footsteps running up behind them.

“I say, wait for me,” panted Sam, who was nothing like as fit as once he had been. “Where are you two off to?”

“We’re looking for Coralie, who’s not anywhere to be seen. Sam, I’ve got a strange feeling that something is wrong.”

“Oh dear,” said Samuel and attempted to look serious, which was a little difficult considering that he had sweat pouring down his face and had gone rather red.

Ahead of them lay the waterway, its glassy surface calm and still, the full moon shining down, lighting its way with a path of silver that looked almost as if one could walk on it. John, staring at the unearthly light, felt himself growing more and more uneasy. In the distance he noticed Dominique Jean, who must have slipped out of the ballroom as soon as the dance ended. It seemed that everyone was out here except the one person whom he was urgently seeking. And then, very faintly, he heard a definite splash.

John broke into a run, Jago at his heels, Samuel following at some distance behind them. But they had a long way to go as they rushed round the perimeter of the lake, trying to identify the place from whence the noise had come. And then suddenly, hastening towards them through the trees, they saw a woman’s figure running in their direction. For a moment the

Apothecary thought it was Coralie and he increased his pace but then he realised that it was Juliana, her clothes disarrayed, her hair wild and flowing.

“Oh help me,” she was shouting. “My sister-in-law has fallen in the lake and is drowned.”

“Where?” John asked urgently.

“Down there.” She waved a vague arm in the direction of the cascade.

Without waiting for any further explanation John shot past her and ran as if his very life depended on it towards the place where he had found Coralie’s husband dead as beef. And then, just as he thought his lungs were going to burst, he saw her, floating so quietly and still, her skirts holding her up in the water as if they had filled with air. Without hesitation John kicked off his shoes and dived in, taking Coralie’s body in his arms and swimming with it towards the shore.

Jago, a minute or so behind, knelt down and helped pull him and Coralie out of the water. The Apothecary was filled with a terrible sense of deja-vu as he sat with the dead woman in his arms, transported back in time to that dreadful night when he had found his wife dying in the snow, her blood so red on the purity of the whiteness. Then he pulled himself together and, turning Coralie over, thumped her on the back violently, then lifted her with Joe’s help so that she was facing downwards. The water poured from her mouth and she gave a great gasp, and John wept with relief that she was still alive. He leant over her.

“Coralie, you’re going to be all right.”

Her eyes rolled in her pale face. “Juliana…” she whispered.

“Yes, she saved you. She came running for help.”

Coralie gave him a despairing glance and shook her head.

“She pushed me in,” she said, so quietly that he had to strain his ears to hear her.

Dominique ran up, hotly pursued by dear old Samuel. Joe Jago straightened up.

“Good timing, gents. Now, if you will carry Lady Arundel back to the house, Mr Rawlings and I will go in pursuit of that other woman.”

And he set off at speed once more. John, following and running uphill, decided that he really must get fitter and that he would take up some sporting activity when things finally settled down. His admiration for Joe Jago grew by the minute as that lithe man, older than John but in far better shape, sped ahead of him towards the house.

As they neared the great east portico he slowed his pace so that he was doing little more than walking rapidly. John, relieved that they were easing up at last, finally caught up with him.

“Where is she, Joe?”

“That, sir, is what I’m about to find out.” Jago looked round and seeing a young chap hurrying inside, called out, “Forgive me, sir, but do you know Lady Juliana Bravo?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can you tell me where she is at present?”

“I believe I saw her going round to the stable block.”

But that was enough for Jago who sped off once more, leaving John to follow on as best he could. And when he arrived, following rapidly on Joe’s heels, it was to a scene of great drama. Looking wildly disarrayed Juliana was ordering her coachman to get the horses in the traces as quickly as possible.

“But, madam, they aren’t rested.”

“Do I care? Take any two that you can lay your hands on.”

“That would be theft, my Lady,” said Joe, stepping silently up to her.

She turned on him like a fury. “I’ll ask you to mind your own business, sir.”

“That is precisely what I am doing. And, madam, I must warn you that I am placing you under arrest for the attempted murder of Lady Arundel.”

There was a long silence during which Juliana, white-faced as if she too had recently been drowned, gazed at him, then she said in a hoarse voice, “She is still alive?”

“Yes,” answered John, appearing out of the shadows to stand at Joe Jago’s side, “you should have used your tried and trusted method, madam.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“This,” he said, and he produced the remnants of the blowpipe from a back pocket of his evening suit and thrust it into her hands.

She stared down at it. “What is this thing?”

“I think you know that only too well, madam,” said Joe Jago succinctly. “You see, it has the faint smell of lavender about it, a scent that you use, I believe.”

There was a moment’s silence and then Juliana’s face contorted horribly and she threw the blowpipe on the ground. Her nails raked within an inch of Jago’s face but he caught her wrists and held them in an iron grip.

“Mr Rawlings, be so good as to secure this woman, would you.”

“Gladly,” said John, and seizing a leather strap bound Juliana’s hands in front of her.

“Now, madam, let’s hear the truth, if you please,” Jago said, and even John flinched at the tone of his voice.

Lady Juliana began to sob, deep heart-rending cries that would have made him pity her but for recent events.

“Yes, it’s true. I killed my brother and the bastard deserved it. For years he had abused me when we were children and then he turned his attentions to his own daughter. He made her life hell, my poor little Georgiana. I lived for that child, she was my only reason for being alive.”

“And what about Lady Orpington?” Joe asked in a much kinder voice.

“She was out and about that night, the night I did for Charles. I’d been in to see him earlier and changed the dressing on his chancre, put poison in it so that it would enter his bloodstream. How he must have suffered and how well he deserved everything he got.”

“The girl; his mistress?” Jago reminded her.

“I thought she had seen me when I went outside to check what had happened to him. She was wandering about in the grounds, knowing that Charles wasn’t in his room and had gone searching for him. But I couldn’t take the risk of her having seen me and betraying me. So I poisoned her with a little arrow which I blew into the back of her neck. Then I put her in the Temple of Venus, where the pox-ridden little creature belonged.” Juliana gave a terrible laugh. “They say that Sir Francis Dashwood has founded a club called Hellfire. Well, that’s where those two people have ended. May they rot in hellfire for all eternity.”

“And what about Coralie?” John asked quietly.

She turned on him a look of pure contempt. “That empty- headed woman. That “actress”. She’s not fit to be a mother. Georgiana doesn’t love her, she loves me. And now as her sole living relative the child will be handed into my care for me to bring up as if she were my own.”

“But as I’ve already told you, Coralie is still alive, Lady Juliana.”

She literally writhed in front of them and spat upon the ground. And it was at that moment that John realised she was quite insane and felt a moment’s intense pity for such an unhappy woman. He turned to Joe Jago.

“What shall we do with her?”

“We’ll get Sir Francis to lock her up overnight and at first light I’ll take her back to London and deliver her into the hands of Sir John Fielding.”

“What will happen to her?”

Joe lowered his voice. “She’ll probably end up in Bedlam,” he whispered, and John shivered at the very prospect.

An hour later he was allowed to go and see Coralie, who was lying in bed, very pale but very much alive.

“I’m afraid it was Juliana who killed your husband and Lady Orpington,” he said quietly.

“They both deserved to die,” she answered. “I know it is wrong of me to say that but it would be hypocritical of me to do otherwise. Dr Bancroft gave him some of the poison to do experiments with on a cat. Charles showed the results to Juliana when she came visiting and she must have stolen some at the time.”

John nodded, afraid to say anything.

“And now,” Coralie continued, “I must devote my life to my daughter. She has had a terrible start and I must do all I can to make sure she grows up into a fine young woman. Do you know, John, I grew to suspect her all over again. That is why I begged you to let the case drop. I thought she had killed Charles and his mistress out of revenge.”

“Poor, poor Coralie. What a burden for you to have to bear.” There was a long silence, then he said, “Perhaps she would like to come and visit Rose some time.”

She covered one of his hands with one of her own. “Oh, my dear friend. What a life we both have led. Tragedy has struck us and yet we are here to tell the tale.”

“I think, Coralie, that we were both born to survive.”

She smiled at him. “I expect you are right. I will not marry again. As I have said, I shall now devote myself to my child to the exclusion of everyone else.”

He looked at her, just a little sadly, if you are sure that that will be enough for you.” He stood up. “Goodbye, Coralie. I wish you well.”

“I shall never forget you, John. You have saved my life on more than one occasion and you know what they say.”

“I do indeed. Farewell, my dear.”

And with that he left the room.

The next morning he woke to find that Joe Jago had already left in the Bow Street coach and that he and Samuel were dependent on Dominique for a lift back to town, Sir Francis, though, despite the contretemps of the night before, was still intent on enjoying his party and was challenging everyone present to a walk through the grounds ending in an outdoor feast, after which he intended to have a mock battle on the lake. John, strangely depressed by last night’s events, refused politely, as did Samuel. The Frenchman, too, made his excuses.

“Forgive me, my dear good sir, but I have a mass of work to do. I am afraid that I must bid you adieu. I shall head back for London if you and madam will allow.”

“Talking of madames,” John whispered to Samuel, “any sign of Betsy?”

“She was last seen going into a thicket with old Lord Orpington.”

“He’ll probably die of a heart attack.”

“Oh, but my dear John, what an exit!”

His humour somewhat restored, John travelled back to town in good company and was dropped off at the corner of Gerard Street. Walking to Nassau Street and letting himself in with a key he went through to the garden and sat down on a seat.

He knew now that his lifelong preoccupation with Coralie Clive had finally come to an end. It was finished and he must move on. He asked himself, then, why Elizabeth had been so quiet and what she could possibly be up to. He decided that a letter to her was long overdue. But just as he was going to the library to write it the front door opened and Rose shot through and seized him and hugged him and gave him many kisses.