Chapter 5 #2
Hugh had spent the last few months sitting in Parliament, trying to find some cause to champion, to focus on.
But for the most part, Parliament had appeared to Hugh as a bunch of blustering men arguing over topics that would in no way benefit the lowly masses they governed.
They were sorely out of touch with the realities of the working class and working poor.
Every time he attended a session, he left with more respect for Sir Gabriel’s position.
As magistrate, he heard evidence and testimony and was able to cast judgment quickly over whether a hearing from the Grand Jury was necessary or not.
He was by no means the final authority on whether a man was found guilty or innocent, but he moved the wheels of justice along efficiently.
Sir Gabriel was a man of action. Of principle.
And so, suspecting that he was the person Mr. Gye had convinced at Bow Street to stay mum about the two dead bodies found at Vauxhall disturbed Hugh.
That Sir Gabriel also did not wish for his niece’s disappearance to be investigated also warranted concern.
Hugh’s fist came down on the door to the chief magistrate’s office, bringing about the immediate customary bellow of, “What is it?”
He entered, and Sir Gabriel glanced up from papers on his desk to see who was bothering him. His annoyance slipped marginally, then snapped back into place.
“Neatham,” he said. “I figured I’d be seeing you in here at some point today.”
He shuffled his papers together, leaned back in his chair, and gestured impatiently to the chairs in front of his desk. Hugh remained standing. He could usually mask whatever emotions he was feeling, but Sir Gabriel knew him too well.
“Ach, come now, there’s no reason to look like that.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Disappointed.” Sir Gabriel sat forward. “I told Rebecca not to visit you about Bethany and for good reason. There’s no mystery, no crime, except idiocy. The girl left with the intention of eloping.”
“Do you assume, or do you know?” Hugh asked, again.
Sir Gabriel exhaled, took a moment to deliberate, and then opened a desk drawer. He presented a letter, folded, and dropped it onto the desk. Hugh took it, wondering why Mrs. Silas and Lady Rebecca had failed to tell him about the note Bethany left behind.
But as he started to read, he realized it was something else entirely.
“Hell,” he muttered, dropping the letter to the desk once he’d finished.
“There is no way to know if Bethany is aware of these demands, but either way, she’s ruined—utterly and thoroughly—unless she returns as Mrs. Travis Comstock.
So, Mr. Silas has answered the demands of this blackguard bounder in the affirmative and is now simply awaiting their return from Gretna Green. ”
Sir Gabriel retrieved the letter, in which Comstock, writing in fanciful language, all but ransomed a generous yearly allowance on top of Bethany’s modest dowry in order to see the elopement through.
In no uncertain terms, Comstock threatened to return Bethany, unwed and scandalized, should his demands not be met.
“When did Mr. Silas receive this?” Hugh asked.
“The day after Bethany failed to return home from Vauxhall.”
So, she’d been gone for one night; long enough to coax her parents into a panic.
“And why was her mother not made aware of this?” Hugh asked.
“Ignorance is bliss, Marsden. You of all people should know.”
Hugh scowled. Sir Gabriel was surely referencing Hugh’s own prior ignorance to the truth of his birth.
He’d been heir to the viscountcy all along, not an illegitimate ward.
The chief magistrate knew him well enough to know that he would trade it in for his old life in a heartbeat, if only it were possible.
“I’m surprised Comstock settled on someone like Bethany for his scheming,” Hugh said, still bothered by the whole situation, and not just the deviousness of it. It was a unilateral union, at best. “Silas is landed gentry. A squire, just as Comstock is. Why not aim higher?”
Sir Gabriel stood, groaning as if his knees bothered him.
“My brother-in-law is by no means a wealthy man, but he can afford the demanded allowance. He also has little power or clout to do anything more about it. As for Bethany herself, I don’t wish to speak ill of my niece, but she is plain, and her charms are few.
She would have been easy to persuade. Comstock chose his quarry wisely, as far as I’m concerned. ”
When put like that, Hugh found he agreed. That he’d lied about having a sister, hired someone to stand in as the fabricated relation, and then also lied about where he was leasing rooms…it all spoke to his ultimate deception. Which seems to have gone off without a hitch.
Why, then, did the faintest of barbed friction remain just under Hugh’s skin when he thought of Bethany?
“They should be returning within a day, I would imagine,” Hugh said, having calculated the length of the journey to the Scottish border and back.
Sir Gabriel grimaced. “And I will be forced to give my congratulations, no doubt.” He then narrowed his eyes further, deepening the crease that divided the bridge of his nose and his forehead. “You have also come here to discuss the happenings at Vauxhall, I am sure.”
“Happenings is a mild description, one that might befit the society pages. These are murders, though no one in London seemed to know about them until this morning thanks to someone here at Bow Street.”
The Morning Post had exclusively printed the story, and Hugh was certain a Vauxhall worker had tipped off the publication after last night’s debacle.
Hugh held Sir Gabriel’s darkening stare. He no longer answered to the knight. Respecting him did not mean he had to bow down to him or tuck his tail and flee.
The chief magistrate skirted Hugh’s pointed comment. “I am aware you found the body at the Cascade.”
A pert knock landed on the closed office door, cutting into the chief’s agitated statement.
“What is it?” he bellowed.
The door opened, and a clerk stood aside to permit a visitor. Hugh raised a brow as Audrey entered the office. He should have expected to see her here.
“Your Grace,” Sir Gabriel said, only slightly tempering his previous tone.
She gave the chief magistrate a placating grin; the one she reserved for those she thought were being petulant and hotheaded. She’d worn it a time or two for Hugh.
“I’m just in time, I see. Yes, Hugh found the body at the Cascade,” she said. “We both did.”
“Listening at doors, Your Grace?” The magistrate re-took his seat, but Audrey didn’t quaver from the chastising.
“Hardly,” she said as the door shut behind her. “Your voice is equal to the blast of a bugle, Sir Gabriel. I practically heard you shouting at the viscount when I stepped through the front door.”
Well aware of his own aggressive reputation and booming voice, he laughed and invited her to take a seat. However, she stopped next to Hugh. The light floral scent of camellia and sunshine that he’d come to dream about warmed his blood.
“I’ll stand, thank you,” she replied. “Now, about the bodies at the pleasure gardens—”
“We’ve already been hounded this morning thanks to that article in the Post, but I cannot discuss it with members of the public, Your Grace. Let us leave it at that.”
Hugh nearly choked on a laugh. The magistrate should simply give in now. Once Audrey had a question, she got an answer, no matter the route, and no matter how perilous.
“Harlan Givens was missing his left ear,” Hugh said, deciding to help her along. “It looked to be a clean stroke of a knife.”
Sir Gabriel glowered, accentuating his double chin as he tucked it. “What of it?”
“The other two were missing their ears as well.”
Sir Gabriel sighed heavily. “Yes, the left ear.”
“And their throats all cut?”
The magistrate nodded.
“So, then that means the same person killed all three victims,” Audrey said.
With his cheeks turning florid, the magistrate had reached his limit.
He gripped the edge of the desk and stood again.
“Mr. Gye asked for our discretion, and I gave it, not because I give a damn about him losing money, but because announcing something like this would inspire a panic. And now, you can bloody well expect one, even though the general public is not in any danger.”
“What makes you so sure?” Hugh asked.
“Tyne!” Sir Gabriel bellowed without warning, causing Hugh to wince and Audrey to jump.
No more than a moment or two passed before Tyne entered the office. The officer had to have been lingering in the corridor, likely drawn by word of Hugh’s arrival. It was a petty thing to do, listening at doors, as Sir Gabriel had just accused Audrey of doing.
“Lord Neatham and Her Grace would like the particulars about the Vauxhall case, and they have assured me they will speak to no one outside this room of them, especially no reporters.” Sir Gabriel’s stare fired high as he turned it toward Hugh, then Audrey. “Isn’t that correct?”
“Certainly,” Audrey replied sweetly. Too sweet. But Sir Gabriel was not as schooled at her tones of voice yet.
The magistrate started for the door, grumbling, “I’m wanted at court.”
Silence followed his departure as Tyne rocked back onto his heels, his nostrils flaring. Hugh waited for the man to speak. When he did, it was as though the words were struggling to form. “I take it you are joining the investigation.”
Ah. Now he understood Tyne’s bristling. He thought Hugh had come to take over. Stepping on Tyne’s toes was the last thing he wished to do, even though he did take some pleasure in riling him.
“Not officially. My only interest is in Harlan Givens and why he was killed. If it’s connected to these other murders, I’d like to know how and why.”
The explanation did little to allay the officer. “I would think they would be beneath your notice, my lord.” Again, the emphasis on the form of address smacked with scorn.