Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
The coach field at Vauxhall held paltry few conveyances when Sir parked the phaeton.
That it was early in the afternoon didn’t signify.
The pleasure gardens should have been bustling, even at this time of day.
Children, families, and anyone who did not enjoy the crush of dinner revelry and entertainment would come to the grounds during daylight.
The quiet of the coach field didn’t bode well for the proprietor at all.
“There is no benefit in stopping to speak with Mr. Gye,” Audrey said. “We should go directly to Burdick Close.”
Hugh could understand her desire to leap into action, and she’d been consistent in her opinion ever since Hugh mentioned going to the Vauxhall proprietor’s building first, to see if the owner was in his offices. But Hugh wouldn’t relent.
“If he can provide any information on the Sanctuary at all before we go charging in, it will be worth the delay,” he explained. Again.
After combing over the discussion that he and Thornton had the previous evening, it seemed entirely likely that Mr. Gye had an enemy, one tied to the Sanctuary, and who might wish to damage him.
Dumping bodies at his place of business would certainly do it.
It was also entirely possible the man himself was a member of this secret society.
“I agree,” Thornton said as he stood from the seat. “It pays to be prudent.”
Her glare scorched the physician, even as she took his proffered hand and descended to the grass.
“Sir, stay with the phaeton,” Hugh said.
Surprising no one, Sir scoffed. “I’m not going to sit here on my arse. That ain’t helpful.”
“It helps if you prevent my rig from being stolen. I just bought the bloody thing,” Hugh said. “We’ll return shortly.”
He wasn’t entirely sure they would, but if it kept Sir in the coach field for a little while, the lie would be worth it.
If they were going to be making their way to Burdick Close, he didn’t want both Audrey and Sir there to divide his attention.
Already, his muscles were strung tight with the knowledge that Gwendolyn was in danger.
Perhaps already dead. He should have thought to check on her.
It seemed she’d had good reason to be afraid at the tea shop after all.
They entered the proprietor’s house and learned Mr. Gye was, in fact, in.
An attendant led them to an office overlooking the entrance pavilion in the gardens.
The windows were open, inviting in a breeze, though the proprietor himself was flushed as he stood at his desk, bracing himself over a stack of papers.
Several crates were on the floor around the desk, some lidded and others open. Mr. Gye looked to be packing.
He glanced up from the papers, wearing a deep frown.
“Your Grace. My lordships,” he said, an insincere grin attempting to stretch its way across his lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” His attention jumped back toward the papers that he’d been staring daggers at.
“We’ve caught you at a bad time,” Hugh said. “It appears as though you’re moving.”
“Selling,” he said grimly. Mr. Gye reached behind his stock and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Already?” Audrey asked. “You’ve only been leasing Vauxhall for a year or two, haven’t you?”
Mr. Gye appeared green at the gills at the reminder. “Yes, and it appears I am finished here. Profits are plummeting, people are staying away, and I cannot count how many articles there have been calling me corrupt for trying to hush up the murders.”
Hugh sealed his lips. Those articles might not have been very far from the truth.
“If these are not signs from above that I should wash my hands of the place, I should call myself a fool,” Mr. Gye concluded.
Through the window overlooking the pavilion, the lack of people strolling demonstrated his concern.
“People are frightened to come here,” he said, following Hugh’s gaze.
It begged the question, yet again, as to why the Sanctuary had left the bodies here for discovery. Why not throw them into the Thames, or dump them out into a street gutter? There was a reason. Perhaps it had to do with Gye himself.
“Is there anyone you can think of who might want to damage your business here?” Hugh asked. “Anyone who dislikes you, or who might wish to make things difficult for you?”
The proprietor scoffed. “Not a soul. I don’t have any enemies.”
“Every businessman has enemies,” Thornton argued. “People you’ve passed on the way up, maybe never even noticing them.”
“I resent that,” he snapped. “I’m not some power-hungry ogre. I’m on good terms with all my workers. It is this dead body business that is ruining me.”
“The bodies were left at your establishment for a reason,” Hugh said. “There is purpose behind it. We’re trying to figure out what that is.”
Mr. Gye sighed and started back for his desk and the pile of papers that Hugh now suspected were letters of sale.
“The Bow Street Runners say it is but a prank. One of the men I had posted on night security must have accepted a bribe. I’ve dismissed the lot of them, hoping to ease the sale of the lease, and hired a whole new detail, but I fear it’s too little too late. ”
“Where is the Sanctuary, Mr. Gye?” Audrey’s question cut straight through, to the reason for their visit. Her unswerving focus on finding Gwendolyn overrode everything else. Even the smallest thread Hugh now had the impulse to pull, regarding the lease for Vauxhall being up for sale.
Mr. Gye screwed up his face. “Come again? What is the…what?”
“The Sanctuary,” Audrey repeated.
There was no flare of his eyes or nostrils, no loss of color in his cheeks. Only a grumble of impatience. “Is that some sort of church?”
Hugh peered at him, askance. “You’ve never heard of it?”
“I have not,” Gye said, patience ebbing. “Does it have to do with these murders?”
“Possibly,” Hugh answered.
Gye tossed his hands upward. “Why would a church want to kill people and leave them at my pleasure gardens?”
“It isn’t a church. But maybe the intent was to drive you out,” Hugh said, pulling at that thread. “Owning Vauxhall’s lease could be highly profitable, I imagine.”
Gye wrinkled his brow with a meaningful look, one that confirmed Hugh’s presumption. “It is also very costly,” he added. “I know it has only been a week since attendance fell off, but I pride myself on my business instinct. Recovery is not ensured, and this is too good of an opportunity.”
Hugh frowned, not understanding his meaning. Thornton, however, did.
“Opportunity? Do you mean to say you have a buyer?” he asked.
Mr. Gye brightened. “I do. As it turns out, my steward is still interested and quite flush.”
“Still interested? He wanted to purchase it before?” Audrey asked.
“Yes, there were several bids last year when the Tyers-Barretts put up the lease,” Mr. Gye said, shuffling through the papers.
“But Vauxhall needed a true businessman at the helm, someone who would revive the place. I did exactly that.” He sighed as he set the papers down again. “For a little while at least.”
Hugh recalled the steward’s reaction to Mr. Gye on the night Givens was found, when Mr. Gye had tried to trundle Audrey off with him, believing the scene of a crime was no place for lady. His name escaped Hugh, but he did clearly remember the look of animosity he’d given the proprietor.
“If I recall, you said your steward had worked for the Tyers-Barretts?” Audrey said.
“Yes, that’s correct. And his father and grandfather before him.
Their family residence even abuts the property.
Fine man. Very efficient. But to be completely honest, his temperament isn’t entirely conducive to the job.
He’s not, shall we say, particularly solicitous to our guests.
Far too serious. And this is a pleasure garden!
” He opened his arms theatrically toward the windows.
Hugh’s pulse slowed; everything around him seemed to decelerate too.
“Your steward’s residence abuts the property?” Audrey asked Mr. Gye. “It is connected to Vauxhall’s grounds?”
“Of course. It’s imperative that he have access to the grounds at all hours. Now, if you don’t mind,” he said, looking about the office, “I do have quite a bit to manage here. If you’ve asked all your questions…?”
Hugh held up his hand, recalling the man’s name. “Was Mr. Hammond upset that his bid wasn’t chosen last year?”
“Not at all. He completely understood. And Hammond is his Christian name. His family name is Abbey.”
The small hairs on the back of Hugh’s neck stood up. Audrey whirled so fast to face him, her skirt billowed.
“Abbey!” she exclaimed.
“Known to be a sanctuary for nuns and monks,” Thornton said, then with a low whistle, “The man has a twisted sense of humor.”
“It’s a play on his name,” Audrey said as Hugh’s mind and heartbeat began to race again.
He turned to Mr. Gye. “Where is he?”
The proprietor peered at them quizzically. “Not here yet, I’m afraid. What is this about?”
“Does he live on Burdick Close?” Audrey asked, overruling his question.
“Yes, that’s right. Now, I must insist, what is—”
“Where is his access to the grounds?” Hugh cut in.
When Gye sealed his lips and looked to vacillate, Hugh closed in on the man until he loomed over him.
“Bow Street officers are on their way. There is a young woman missing, and we’ve every reason to believe she is with your steward.
Now, we need to know—where is his access point? ”
Gye only wavered another second or two before capitulating. “In the southeastern corner of the grounds, near the Firework Tower. It’s a door set into a stone wall. It leads to a tunnel that runs to his house.”
The Firework Tower, Hugh knew, was secluded on the grounds, far from the main entertainments near the orchestra and supper boxes.
“Is the door locked?” Hugh asked.
Gye opened a desk drawer and with slightly shaking fingers, retrieved a ring of keys. “I think this is the one.” He fumbled to get one of the several keys off the large ring. He then placed it into Hugh’s waiting palm.
“Good. Audrey,” he turned to her. “Go to Sir. Tell him everything, and then go together across the bridge and signal the first foot patrolman you see. I don’t trust anyone on the south side of the Thames. They could all be in Abbey’s pocket.”
As he’d been speaking, she’d been visibly bristling, and he was ready for the coming dispute.
“I’m staying with you.” She said it more calmly than he’d expected. She then addressed Mr. Gye. “There is a young man in a phaeton in the coach field. He answers to the name Sir.”
Gye balked as he understood her intent. “Your Grace, you must be in jest. You want me to go across the bridge and signal a foot patrol? Viscount, surely, I would be of better assistance to you. I will show you where the door is.”
Audrey pinned Hugh with a stare, waiting for his reply.
Although he would have rather had her and Sir both safely away from Burdick Close and whatever was unfolding there, he could not keep pushing her away, if only to shield her from harm.
Audrey had already proven to be keen and competent under duress.
In fact, Mr. Gye’s offer to assist fell vastly short of what Hugh knew was needed: Trust. Allegiance.
The ability to read his thoughts. Just because Gye was a man did not mean he’d be a better partner when faced with some dire situation.
Hugh clenched his jaw. “We’ll find the door, Mr. Gye. It’s imperative you help by alerting the young man in the phaeton as to what is happening and sending patrolmen to Abbey’s residence as soon as they’ve gathered a number of men. One or two alone won’t help.”
Audrey beamed at him for a few glowing moments as the proprietor accepted his task and took up his hat. She shifted her countenance to one of grim determination as she, Hugh, and Thornton took an open terrace door that led directly out into the gardens.
“You have your pistol?” he asked Thornton.
His friend lifted his coat to display the polished black handle of his flintlock. “I’ve learned that when I’m with you, I tend to need it.”