Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Leaving Julien and his Russian guests to distract the son from his grief with music, Dora, Jacob and Jane ventured out onto Queen Anne Street.
‘I do not appreciate being hunted like a rabbit,’ said Jane, glancing up and down the street, looking as if she expected a runaway carriage to come bowling in their direction. It was empty, the shadows cast by the railing shortening as the sun climbed to noon.
‘Then I suggest we dive into a burrow and consider who the fox might be,’ said Jacob, offering her his arm. He held out the other to Dora.
‘Any suggestions as to where we might go?’ asked Dora.
‘Gunter’s?’ suggested Jane hopefully.
‘No!’ said Dora and Jacob in unison, alarming the writer.
‘Why? Is there a problem with that establishment?’
‘Only with the gossipers who frequent it,’ said Dora. ‘And besides, it is a longish walk from here.’
‘There is another coffee house that I have been longing to try,’ said Jane. ‘Eliza is very partial to it, due to her early years in Madras.’
‘Where is it?’ asked Jacob.
‘George Street. Is that close by?’
‘Ah, I know it – and it is. An excellent suggestion as we are very unlikely to be followed into the coffee house and will spot our hunters soon enough if they lurk outside. It’s a quiet area of town. Dora, you are in for a treat.’
Anything to be out of danger, thought Dora.
The establishment announced itself as the Hindoostane Coffee House.
Carved sandalwood shutters and drapes of cotton chintz gave the front windows an oriental appearance in this row of ordinary town houses.
The waiter showed them into a private room as befitting ladies, though the main room was almost empty with only a few old Company men playing chess in the window.
Dora admired the prints of elephants and palanquins as Jacob ordered coffee and tea for the table. The waiter retreated.
‘Is anyone going to try the culinary fare?’ Jacob asked, scanning the menu chalked up on the board.
Dora was intrigued by the unfamiliar names for the offerings. ‘Everything is served with rice, not potatoes? And all the dishes are spicy?’
‘Cayenne pepper, curry powder, cardamon, cumin, turmeric – Eliza says that English cuisine is very tame compared to the meals she ate as a little girl,’ said Jane.
‘Now we are here, I will try the mildest. No good leaping into the deepest part of the menu without wetting my toes first and seeing if I can swim.’
‘How on earth does an Hindoostane coffee house end up in Marylebone?’ asked Dora, in wonder. She had thought she would have to travel to find such a thing. The scents from the kitchen were intriguing, none of the hot grease, bacon and bread smells of an ordinary tavern.
‘It is owned by Captain Mohamed of the Bengal Army,’ said Jacob. ‘A brave man, thinking he can make a go of it here.’
‘Plenty of us have family who have been to India and who return with their taste buds ruined for milder fare. I wish him luck,’ said Jane. ‘But I also wish to try the tandoor chicken.’
With their order given, the three investigators sat back and enjoyed the peace of the private room, each lost in their own thoughts.
Three women on the way home from market passed by with full baskets and reminded Dora that the morning was wearing away.
‘Where does the case stand?’ she asked. ‘What have we learned so far?’
‘I must admit I find it very perplexing. My brother thought he was only asking for you to uncover the background to the murder, not to awaken danger again.’ Jane sniffed her tea. ‘Hmm, interesting. Oolong – I rather liked the name.’ She sipped. ‘And I like the savour.’
Jacob poured his coffee, seemingly delighted by the wickedly dark colour.
‘I believe we can rule out a private motive for the murders. There is no suggestion that Lorenzo was enamoured of the comtesse. As for money, Julien is the only one who stood to inherit and he is worse off without his father’s income as an informer for the government. ’
‘His grief is genuine. He wasn’t acting when he was overcome with emotion remembering them,’ said Dora. She had felt sorry for the man. What would he do now with an empty title and only the glimmerings of musical talent, nothing in the class of his mother, the opera star?
‘There is one good thing about the attacks,’ said Jacob.
‘I cannot think such violence bears any good fruit,’ said Jane.
‘Oh, but it does, Miss Austen. We know they are after something that is written down – letters or a report, as that is what they took from your room.’
‘Actually, Jacob,’ contradicted Dora, ‘I think they are also trying to scare us off pursuing this any further. Alex and I worked that out after the attack last night. There was nothing to gain from that but putting us out of action.’
‘They could have a double motive,’ suggested Jane.
‘I agree,’ said Jacob. ‘They know something is missing, likely still in circulation, and they want it most desperately. They want to stop us finding it first. Having searched the comte’s houses, they think your brother, and those in his family or employed by him, might have it, so they’ve gone after us.
Thornbury mentioned a final report. Is it not possible that the comte would lodge such a valuable thing with Mr Austen prior to delivering it if he felt it of particular value? ’
‘I can see the logic to that, particularly if he wanted to negotiate a bonus payment from the government,’ said Dora. ‘Remove it from where it can be taken by a sneak thief, and let everyone know it exists so they can bid for it.’
Jacob nodded. ‘The Russians included. He used to work for them. He might have been playing us off against them.’
‘Which means he thought he was on to something very important, crucial to the war effort.’ What could it be? Dora wondered. Jacob had described the Comte D’Antraigues as a man who put the pieces of the puzzle together. Had he secured a critical piece and formed a picture that killed him?
‘But would the comte be so mercenary? Did he have no gratitude to the country that sheltered him?’ asked Jane.
Jacob gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘The man burned through his money, Miss Austen – entertaining his friends, two houses, an art collection to which he regularly added if I’m any judge of these things, not to mention his wife and son. A thousand pound a year would soon vanish in London.’
Dora and Jane exchanged a glance on that statement from a man used to wealth. Both of them could live very comfortably indeed on so much.
‘But I thought he hated Bonaparte. Why withhold information that could lead to his downfall?’ persisted the writer.
That was a good point. Dora looked to Jacob for an answer. ‘Ditto to what she said.’
‘I doubt very much he was going to withhold it to the point that it was of no use. He was using the window of opportunity to get well paid for his insights,’ suggested Jacob.
‘Then what did he foresee, and who is after that report?’ asked Dora.
‘We must add the Russians to our list of suspects as they are sticking close to Julien. The Vorontsovs could be sincere friends, but they could also be hoping to find the report themselves. Top of the list of suspects must be the French, and then any other governments whose agents were asked to bid for the report – the Swedish, even the Americans might want it.’
Dora gave a huff of frustration. ‘That hasn’t narrowed down our suspects. Which of them is willing to commit murder for this?’
‘Men are dying in their thousands on the battlefields,’ said Jacob matter-of-factly. ‘Most government agents would be able to justify the death of a couple of people in London if it got them what they wanted for their country’s war effort.’
That was a grim thought. ‘I take it your brother has nothing like a report, or letters mentioning one, in his possession?’ Dora asked Jane.
The lady paled at the suggestion. ‘We must ask him directly, but I don’t believe so or he would’ve mentioned it earlier.’
‘Perhaps there is something in the bank’s vault?’
Jane laced her fingers around her cup. ‘That is a possibility. I simply don’t know.’
‘It looks like our next stop is the bank,’ said Jacob. ‘I’d like a look at the D’Antraigues account in any case, to see if that tells us anything.’
Jane drained her Oolong to the dregs and put the cup down with a decisive chink. ‘Then I believe we should ask them to put my order in a basket so I can take it with us. I for one do not want to wait to find out what answers may lie in Henry’s bank.’
The banking house was in Henrietta Street to the south of Covent Garden. In the hackney cab on the way, Dora decided to ask for more information about Jane’s brother’s profession as she didn’t think she’d ever met a banker before.
‘How did your brother end up with a bank in London?’ she asked.
Jane smiled. ‘Henry is full of surprises.’
‘I understand it is a small concern with only three partners?’ prompted Jacob.
‘That is correct. Henry has had the most unsettled of lives of all my brothers. He first tried the army life but found he enjoyed handling money more than marching in formation.’ Jane gave a soft laugh.
‘He probably misses the young ladies going into raptures over his red coat. He did look very gallant.’
‘Every girl loves an officer,’ said Dora, echoing the popular sentiment.
‘Quite so. He has opened a little branch of this bank near my home, where people know and trust him, but the main office is here.’
‘And how does he make his money?’ Dora knew it was a crude enquiry, but she wasn’t a lady like Jane and needn’t worry about offending anyone.
‘I’m afraid I… Well, in the usual way,’ said Jane delicately.