The Duke's Agent (14 page)

‘Ladies, the most disturbing news!' Captain Adams greeted them, his shock overcoming his discretion. ‘Justice Raistrick has had Mr Jarrett taken up and confined in the toll booth. It seems some serving girl has been found dead near his house. Jasper Bedlington has just come to tell me of it.'

‘Some serving girl? Who?' asked Henrietta, startled.

‘The good looking one – what did they call her? Black-Eyed Susan or some such name; you know the one. Was always setting the pigeons fluttering.'

‘Not Sally Grundy!' exclaimed Henrietta. ‘Oh, poor Mrs Grundy. What a tragedy. Sally Grundy is her only family.'

‘You know her, Miss Lonsdale?'

‘Sally Grundy is my cook's niece. But, Captain Adams, how could Mr Jarrett possibly be suspected? And how could Mr Raistrick dare do such a thing? Mr Jarrett is a gentleman, not some common vagrant.'

Captain Adams was flushed with concern.

‘From my acquaintance with Mr Jarrett, I am as surprised as you, Miss Lonsdale. Jasper Bedlington tells me he denies all knowledge of the victim. Yet Lawyer Raistrick claims he has evidence to the contrary and witnesses who will swear he was seen with her. And they found the poor unfortunate girl beneath the very windows of the folly by the old manor bridge – where, I am told, Mr Jarrett has set up camp, as it were,' the Captain ended haltingly.

‘Set up camp in a folly?' interjected Mrs Bedford. ‘Why would he not reside in the manor, if he were the gentleman he claims to be?'

‘Why, Mrs Bedford, what can you mean? It is surely no business of ours where Mr Jarrett chooses to rest?' Henrietta responded, with an energy that surprised the speaker herself.

Mrs Bedford's sharp eyes scanned the younger woman's face with a knowing expression. She pursed up her lips. ‘Well, to my mind it is very odd behaviour. I am not in the least surprised that Justice Raistrick should find it suspicious. The Justice is a very clever man. He would not act without good reason.'

Henrietta appealed to the Reverend Prattman. ‘Mr Prattman, you are a Justice of the Peace also – can this be right?'

The parson tried to cover his bewilderment. He composed a judicious face and dropped his voice into a deeper register. ‘It is true that Mr Raistrick has a fine legal mind – Colonel
Ison himself says so and he is Chairman of the Bench,' he pronounced. Having delivered himself of this comment he fell silent, gazing at the company owlishly.

‘But how could he act so precipitately against His Grace's agent? Sir Thomas himself vouches for him, and he is an old friend of the Duke's,' protested Henrietta.

‘And the devil of it is that Sir Thomas is away. A pretty coil,' lamented Captain Adams. ‘Mr Prattman, you must prevail on your fellow Justice to have Mr Jarrett released from the black hole. We cannot have the Duke's agent dealt with in such a fashion. By heavens, his treatment so far has been enough to give the Duke the deepest offence.'

The parson's judicial manner abandoned him and he openly shook his head. ‘Oh, this is most strange. Most strange. I am all bewildered. And yet Mr Raistrick has a fine legal mind,' he repeated, ‘a fine legal mind – the Colonel himself says so. He will have some explanation.'

Mrs Bedford sprang to the absent lawyer's defence, her small features determined and her broad bosom thrust forward. ‘Indeed he will,' she declared. ‘Captain Adams, did you not yourself say that Justice Raistrick had evidence and witnesses?'

All of a sudden Henrietta saw Mrs Bedford's person soften. She simpered and patted her brazen curls. Henrietta followed the line of her eyes to the doorway. Justice Raistrick himself swaggered towards them. He had not bothered to change for the evening, but trod across the rich carpet in riding dress and boots. He brought with him a taproom whiff of tobacco smoke, sweat and sour ale.

‘So you've heard the news, eh?' he asked, without preamble, striding directly up to the group. Picking up his hostess's proffered hand, he pressed his lips briefly to the white flesh. Henrietta watched the look that passed between them. His cavalier treatment seemed no offence to Amelia Bedford. Her whole face was rapt with devotion.

‘I came to seek conference with you, Reverend, as a fellow Justice.' Mr Raistrick's manner made it plain that he intended the two of them should go aside.

Henrietta interrupted this intention. ‘This all seems very strange to us, Mr Raistrick,' she declared. ‘How could the Duke's agent possibly be suspected? He has scarcely been in the district a week. Why – he did not even know Sally Grundy by name…' She trailed off. Justice Raistrick was leaning towards her, his feline face acute.

‘And how might you know that, Miss Lonsdale? Did you speak to Mr Jarrett of Sally Grundy? And when might that have been?'

Miss Lonsdale, an honest woman, might later ask herself why she felt so protective of a bare acquaintance. At this moment she was only conscious of her dislike of Mr Raistrick and his bullying ways. She answered his question in a matter of fact tone.

‘I met Mr Jarrett by chance at the Abbey Bridge tollgate last Monday evening. Sally Grundy came by on her way into Woolbridge. She said good evening or some such – you know her way.' At this the Captain responded with a short toss of his head and a half-smile. ‘She passed and Mr Jarrett enquired who she might be. I told him her name and that she was a laundry maid and my cook's niece. There was no mystery about it.'

‘No mystery, Miss Lonsdale, save that Mr Jarrett claimed to me this very afternoon that he had only set eyes on the wench once – in the churchyard last Sunday. And that encounter he only confessed to after a witness had already declared he had seen him there. Why would he lie?' Here Mr Raistrick broke off and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Why would Mr Jarrett not
mention,'
he conceded with a smile, ‘this other encounter?'

‘Perhaps because he felt no need,' responded Henrietta tartly.

Amelia Bedford intervened with a little laugh, belied by the spiteful look on her face. ‘Why, Miss Lonsdale, I believe your aunt told me you yourself remarked on the agent taking an interest in the girl!'

‘That is not what I said.' Henrietta realised she had expressed her annoyance in her tone and she paused. ‘I thought he noticed her at church, that is all. What man in this place did not notice her? She was quite the most beautiful girl for miles around,' she ended sadly.

The parson still sat at the instrument. He shook his head helplessly.

‘All this is most peculiar and most distressing.'

‘Maybe so, Mr Prattman,' Captain Adams pressed him, ‘but Mr Jarrett gives his word as a gentleman that he is not involved. Surely he can be lodged at the inn while this investigation is carried further? The lock-up is no place for the Duke's agent, for God's sake! Pardon me, Reverend. Didn't mean to take the Lord's name in vain but this is beyond everything.'

‘I must concur in that point, Mr Raistrick.' The parson endeavoured to address the lawyer in a business-like tone, but his eyes were timid. ‘Mr Jarrett is the Duke's agent. Surely his word must be respected until he is proven guilty in a court of law?'

Mr Raistrick looked down on the seated man with contempt. Henrietta was struck by the contrast between his physical confidence and the supineness of the parson. The parson's hands were plump and lily-white. Miss Lonsdale glanced at Raistrick's. They were strong, blunt and brown.

‘I have my doubts that Mr Jarrett is who he claims. There are enough unanswered questions to warrant holding him. No one in this district knew him by sight before he appeared among us unattended a week ago. Besides, I have a mind to the common people of this town.' The manner in which Mr Raistrick spoke suggested that while the rest of the
company could afford to be above such considerations he was a practical man. ‘Feelings are running high. This is the second murder in the district in a week. Mr Jarrett is safest in the lock-up over night. He is a young man. He'll come to no harm.'

Amelia Bedford threaded her arm through Mr Raistrick's, her pale bejewelled skin in sharp relief against the mulberry cloth of his coat.

‘Justice Raistrick, let me fetch you a glass of wine and you must tell me everything about this dreadful tale. But I warn you! I am easily frightened!' She gave a lilting, girlish laugh and led him off.

Henrietta opened her mouth to protest. Mr Prattman was clearly looking for a pretext to excuse himself. Miss Lonsdale sketched a curtsey to the parson, and taking the Captain's arm she asked to be taken back to her aunt.

‘Parson's no match for that rogue,' murmured Captain Adams as they moved out of earshot.

‘No, indeed,' agreed Henrietta indignantly. ‘I fear Mr Jarrett needs more justice than the two of them may give him. Captain, if I write a note would you take it to Lady Catherine for me – tonight?'

‘If you wish it, Miss Lonsdale,' answered the Captain perplexed. ‘I cannot see how that may assist Mr Jarrett, but I will take it.'

*

The screech of protesting iron woke him. Jarrett swung his feet to the floor and opened his eyes to dim dawn light. A ladder was being lowered through the open hatch in the ceiling of his prison.

‘Mr Jarrett, sir!' a voice called softly. A cough, then more loudly, ‘Mr Jarrett? Captain Adams. I'm coming down.' A pair of riding boots encasing plump calves appeared at the top of the ladder. The boots descended cautiously followed by the well-fed person of Captain Adams.

He removed his hat. ‘Mr Jarrett.' He greeted the younger man with a jerky bow. Then, as he seemed at a loss for words, Jarrett stepped forward to shake his hand warmly.

‘Captain Adams, so good of you to visit,' he said with a grin. The Captain returned the grip eagerly.

‘Ha! Yes! Odd situation, eh? I have come as a member of the vestry, sir, to invite you to come up to the inn. The Reverend's compliments. He hopes you did not sleep too wretchedly. This is a bad affair. Hope to clear it up directly, eh what?'

‘Indeed I slept well enough, Captain Adams, but I would be grateful for an opportunity to shave and change my shirt.'

‘Of course, absolutely.' The Captain paused and looked at his feet. ‘One thing before we go.' He glanced up under stubby lashes. ‘Justice Raistrick insists you should not speak of the matter to anyone,' he said in a rush. ‘Terms of your going to the inn, as it were. Not to speak to anyone before the investigation.' He gazed anxiously at the prisoner.

‘To no-one?' enquired Jarrett. ‘Am I allowed to ask for breakfast?'

‘Breakfast?' Captain Adams belatedly recognised the joke and laughed. ‘Ha, yes of course! Breakfast, hot water, all that sort of thing, but not the umm…' He waved a hand about diplomatically to fill the gap. ‘Mr Raistrick has taken measures.'

Jarrett clicked his heels and gave a military bow. ‘Captain Adams, I accept your terms. May we go?'

Returning the bow with a relieved look, the Captain settled his hat firmly on his head and waved Jarrett up the ladder before him.

Constable Thaddaeus was waiting for them in the arcade above and the three men set off across the empty market place, flushed pink in the dawn light. Unconsciously, they fell into step. The noise of three pairs of boots striking on
stone rang out in the silence. Jarrett broke in on the evocative sound.

‘So I am to be allowed to be present during the magistrates' investigation, Captain Adams? This is an unusual courtesy for a suspect.'

‘No, sir, no indeed, sir. You are not suspected! A misunderstanding. You are the Duke's agent. If Mr Raistrick wishes the investigation to be held in this public way then the Reverend Prattman insists you be present at the questioning of the witnesses and I concur, sir, I concur.'

Two men, strangers to him, were loitering in the street by the Queen's Head. They had surly, watchful faces. One sketched a half-insolent nod to the constable as the three passed.

The door to the Queen's Head inn was thrown open and the space filled by Mrs Bedlington. For a fearful moment Jarrett thought she was going to embrace him, but her far flung arms stopped short, encompassing the space before him in a fervent welcome.

‘Come in, come in, Mr Jarrett.' Emotion clogged her voice. Mistress Polly turned to the consolation of practical matters. ‘I have a fresh shirt and linen laid out above, sir, in your old room,' she said, speaking as if she were a family retainer. ‘I have a good breakfast waiting for you. You'll feel better once you've food inside you.'

Jasper Bedlington stood behind his wife and by him the slight wiry figure of Nat Broom. Mr Bedlington cast a disgusted look at the sharp-featured man. ‘The Justice's man,' he said contemptuously. ‘Nat, here, is come to spy on you, Mr Jarrett – make sure no one speaks to you of this affair of Sal's death.' He gave a sour smile as Nat Broom bridled and made as if to speak. ‘Don't worry yourself, Nat, I've said my piece,' he told him.

Jarrett reassured the innkeeper. ‘Captain Adams has informed me of the terms of my release. I will do my best not
to trouble you with unnecessary talk, Mr Broom. Though I would like to say, Mistress Polly, a clean shirt at this moment would be my salvation!'

Mrs Bedlington led him up the stairs followed by her maid bearing hot water in a jug. Mrs Bedlington took the jug and followed Jarrett into the room, only to be stopped by Nat Broom.

‘You leave that door open – I'm to hear anything you say,' he warned.

Mrs Bedlington's withering look spoke volumes of her opinion of this officiousness. ‘I'm not stopping,' she snapped.

In regal silence the innkeeper's wife walked behind the door and placed the hot water on the stand that stood out of sight there. Feeling slightly sorry for the man, Jarrett gave Nat Broom a rueful smile and got a blank stare for his pains. Mistress Polly, having arranged things to her liking, swept back round the door, displacing the small man with her bulk. She closed the door carefully on her guest, throwing him a meaningful look as she departed, seeming to indicate something behind the door. Jarrett heard her parting shot as she descended the staircase.