Mathew's Tale (23 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I
T WAS TWO DAYS
after Lizzie’s visit to Waterloo House for dinner, on a Wednesday, that Mathew was summoned by Paul Johnston.

He had spent much of that time thinking of the future; his own and hers. Less than half a year had passed since David’s death, and he was still able to think of her as his friend’s wife. But the intimacy of that dinner table, and its humour, had been a reminder of former days, and since then he had felt his resolve beginning to soften. He strengthened himself by thinking of Margaret, something he had done infrequently since the summer tragedy had exploded upon them all.

The day before he had ventured into Carluke cemetery to visit her grave. He was pleased to find it well tended, with a clematis planted on one side and a winter jasmine on the other. The same flowers grew where David lay and so he knew who the carer was, and cursed himself for his own neglect.

‘Please call on me at your earliest convenience,’ Johnston’s note read. ‘There have been developments in the matter of Sir G.’

By Thursday afternoon, he was in the Waterloo Hotel, he and Beattie in the same two rooms they had occupied in June. As soon as they were settled in, he set off for Hanover Street, taking the coachman with him. ‘You were in at the start of this journey, Ewan,’ he said. ‘Come a little further with me.’

Johnston had just returned from court when they arrived. ‘How are things in Parliament House?’ Mathew asked him.

The solicitor smiled. ‘They are interesting. Edward Cooper may be a dull man, but he is proving to be an excellent Lord Advocate, and is keeping a healthy distance between himself and the Bench. He and the new Lord Justice General seem to have reached an accommodation. Bellhouse has been banished, effectively, from the High Court and now sits only on civil cases in the Court of Session. There, at least, any damage the malevolent old swine does cannot be fatal. He will not put on the black cap again.

‘In the High Court, there will never be another rush to judgment. Cooper has introduced new rules which say that a prisoner must be indicted within three months, but must be given at least three weeks to prepare his defence. Innes tells me that some of his brethren in the Faculty are calling it the “McGill Rule”. Our unfortunate client’s case has acquired some notoriety, although his conviction is still generally accepted as just.’

‘How is Innes?’

‘He does very well. He declined the offer of advocate depute, saying that he lacked experience, but he has been gathering that apace. He is an attractive proposition now, and Baird is giving him some very choice briefs . . . from which Baird benefits himself as clerk, naturally.’

‘And the Dean of Faculty?’

‘Gone. Cooper got rid of him by the simplest method of all: he elevated him to the Bench at the first opportunity.’ He smiled. ‘But none of this High Street intrigue has anything to do with my note.’

‘Then why are we here?’

‘Because, sir, the agents I employed in Edinburgh on your instruction have earned their fees. They have found three prostitutes, all of them plying their trade in the St Bernard’s Crescent house of entertainment, who have all testified that Sir Gavin Cleland was a regular client.

‘Their affidavits go into great detail. He is an energetic man, it seems, for they say that he usually prefers the company of at least two ladies at a time. His tastes are more than a little disgusting, and I will let you read of them rather than describe them. I have sworn statements also from the agents, detailing the days and times on which they followed Sir Gavin.

‘It seems that it was his regular habit to go directly from Lord Douglas’s house to St Bernard’s Crescent . . . even after the announcement last month of his betrothal to Miss Douglas.’

He handed over a folder, and leaned back in his chair as Mathew read, watching his frowns, enjoying his gasps of astonishment at certain passages.

When he finished, he was grim-faced. ‘I hope these women were well paid,’ he said.

‘Not well enough,’ Johnston replied, ‘for they were only too keen to speak to my men, for no reward at all.’

‘Earlier,’ Mathew remarked, ‘you used the past tense. Was that accident or design?’

‘The latter. The women were able to speak to the agents because two weeks ago Sir Gavin Cleland was ejected from the premises and told never to return. A cheque that he wrote was dishonoured and he could not cover his debts at the tables. Since then he has been pursuing his carnality in much poorer surroundings in the port of Leith. He takes his life in his hands down there, sir.’

‘Then let us try and keep him safe, I do not want him to wind up on the end of a knife in some dark close.’

He brandished the folder. ‘Thank you for this, Paul. Your Edinburgh men have done a good job for me. Let me have a final account for their services, and I will deal with it immediately. How of the other agents, though?’

‘Nothing yet, but the last letter I had said they were “pursuing a line of enquiry”, as they put it. I will advise you of any further news.’ He pointed at the folder. ‘You may take that with you; I had two further copies made, all signed and witnessed by an independent notary, with his seal. What do you plan to do with it?’ he asked.

‘I intend to settle my first, lesser, score, and I will take pleasure in it. I will not involve you, for your own sake, even though you might enjoy being there. There is nobody so grand that he is beyond humility.’

Johnston grasped his meaning. ‘Be careful how you tell him, though. Douglas may have lost his political power by putting on the red jacket with the ermine trim, but there are few more formidable enemies than the Lord Justice General, whoever he might be.’

‘I will step lightly, Paul, worry not. My intention is to let him see for himself the error of his ways, rather than to ram them down his throat.’

‘Then good luck. But please do not give him my regards.’ He smiled, and then his eyebrows rose, suddenly. ‘Ah,’ he exclaimed, ‘I almost forgot. Blackwood the printer called on me on Wednesday, just after I had sent you my note; he gave me a message for you, although I did not understand it. Some friends of his, he said, are anxious to speak with you.’

Chapter Thirty-Eight

‘A
RE YOU SURE YE
dinna want me to come in wi’ ye, master?’ Ewan Beattie asked.

‘No,’ Mathew replied. ‘I do not believe Lord Douglas would take that too kindly. But wait outside; in his position, he must have discreet guards about him, so I am putting myself in a small hazard by going in there . . . if I am admitted, that is.’

‘And if ye dinna come out?’

He checked his watch, then handed it to his escort. ‘It is seven o’clock now; if I am not out by ten, then have Mr Johnston at the court first thing tomorrow, clutching a writ of
habeas corpus
.’

‘What kind o’ flower is that, sir?’

‘A rare one, but very efficacious in cases of confinement.’

Leaving Beattie utterly bewildered, he trotted up to the steps to thirty-three Heriot Row and pulled the brass handle that rang the bell within. A minute later, the heavy door opened, slowly and only halfway. A uniformed footman frowned at him. ‘Yes?’ he murmured, eyeing him up and down.

‘Is Lord Douglas at home?’ he asked.

‘That would rather depend, sir.’

‘I am sure that it would,’ he agreed, cheerfully. ‘To put it to the test, would you please tell him that Mr Mathew Fleming, Deputy Lord Lieutenant and magistrate of the County of Lanark is on his doorstep, and would be grateful for a few minutes of his time. Be sure to tell him also that it is a private matter, one that will be of great concern to him.’

The footman invited him to wait in the vestibule, then left to deliver his message. The man was no bodyguard, but a door to his right was slightly open, and Mathew could hear faint conversation behind it.

‘Please come up, Mr Fleming.’ The footman’s invitation came from the top of a flight of stairs. He wanted to run up, but took them slowly, one at a time.

James Douglas might have been recently elevated, but he had gained nothing in stature. He remained seated as his guest entered, as if unwilling to be towered over by him.

‘This is a surprise,’ he said. ‘I had not expected to see you in Edinburgh again. My future son-in-law tells me you have even shaken the dust of Carluke from your feet.

‘Between you and I,’ he added, in a mock whisper, ‘I do not blame you one bit. An undistinguished little place, I thought, not befitting the man you have become, a man with the power in London to change even my plans. I refer, of course, to the appointment of Edward Cooper as my successor, a man of no flair but numbing integrity.’

Mathew shrugged. ‘I hardly know the man,’ he replied. ‘As for Carluke, I am not as disconnected as Gavin Cleland might think. It is my birthplace, after all, and I still have considerable interests there.’

‘Then they will prosper, I am sure.’ Lord Douglas waved towards the chair that faced his. ‘I want to tell you,’ he continued, as his guest seated himself, ‘that I am sorry our last meeting did not go better for you, but it could not. It was nothing personal, you understand.’

Mathew felt his anger flare, but he controlled himself. ‘It was for me,’ he replied, quietly, ‘and for my late friend David.’

‘Who was convicted of murder, I must remind you, on the basis of the clear evidence that I put before the jury.’

‘Whose number were practically directed to convict by my Lord Bellhouse,’ Mathew pointed out.

‘Your friend angered my uncle, I am afraid. That is never a good idea.’

‘Angering me is none too clever either,’ Mathew countered, then went on quickly, denying Douglas any opportunity for a riposte, ‘but that is not why I am here. You mentioned your prospective son-in-law earlier. Can I ask you how you find him, as a man?’

‘I will allow you that one question about him,’ the judge said. ‘I find Gavin witty, courteous and charming. He is obviously devoted to my daughter, and frankly, the notion that he could have harmed his brother while intending to shoot another man in the back . . . well, sir, it beggars belief.’

‘Then I am sorry, my Lord,’ Mathew said, ‘for I do not doubt your sincerity. But I have known Gavin Cleland for longer than you. My view of him is somewhat different and it is borne out by these documents.’ He handed over the folder that he had brought with him.

He watched Douglas as he read, for a full ten minutes, his own expression remaining impassive as that of the other changed, curiosity replaced by concern, then by anger and finally black-browed rage.

‘Mr Fleming,’ he said finally, ‘if this is all trumped up, and if the accounts of these harlots have been bought, then you are finished, your family is finished, Mr Johnston is finished and indeed anyone who has ever known you is facing a doleful future.’

‘My Lord,’ Mathew murmured, ‘I will take you on anywhere, if I have to, so do not ever threaten me again. But I assure you, these women have not been paid, and I do not believe they have exaggerated a single one of those accusations.

‘The same cannot be said of the whores who condemned my friend David to death at Bellhouse’s hands, but I cannot prove their perjury, not yet. In the meantime, that is the man to whom you have betrothed your daughter. Disbelieve me, and God help her.’

The Lord Justice General sank back into his chair. ‘I wish I could, but I do not,’ he said, with a heavy sigh. ‘I know your agents, Mr Fleming, by name and by reputation. They are former constables of the city, and I have employed them myself in a similar capacity, both as Lord Advocate and before that in my private practice.’ He brandished the folder. ‘May I keep these?’

‘Of course. My solicitor has notarised copies; I will send another to you if you wish. I am sorry to be the bearer of this news,’ he added.

‘No, you are not,’ Douglas countered, ‘nor should you be, for I have given you no reason to be sympathetic towards me. You have put me in your debt now, and forced me to open my mind to some private concerns. While Sir Gavin was all that I have described around this house, I confess that when I visited his estate, I was a little concerned. It is not quite as grand as he described it; corners are being cut, and there is an air of decay about the place.

‘But it was in your church that I became most worried. I have an eye for people and their feelings, Mr Fleming, and among the congregation in that place I detected no respect for him, far less any love, only fear. It even radiated from your sad old minister. You know, I think back to his sermon that day, and I find myself wondering if he was trying to tell me something.’

‘There was a time when he would have told you straight out,’ Mathew said. ‘But you are right about the fear. He was too afraid of Cleland to speak for David in court.’

‘Then you can tell him that his hidden message has finally reached its target. Cleland’s betrothal to my daughter is annulled, and he is banned from this house. If I could forbid him the city, I would, but he would be well advised to absent himself in any case.’

‘He can go where he likes. When the time comes, I will find him.’

The judge smiled. ‘On that day, I would not be in Sir Gavin’s shoes. I think I would rather have you as a friend than an enemy, Mr Fleming. Will you take a whisky?’

‘Thank you, sir, but an old wound has left me with no taste for it, or any liquor for that matter.’

‘My God,’ Douglas laughed, ‘then you really are a dangerous man.’ He rose and crossed to an ornate sideboard against the far wall. He poured himself a generous measure from a square decanter, then returned to his armchair.

‘What you have told me does make me reflect on the case of the late Mr McGill. You do believe completely in his innocence, Mr Fleming? You are not simply being unshakeably loyal to a friend, and so blind to another possibility?’

Mathew shook his head. ‘I am one-eyed, but broad-minded. Have you ever been a soldier, sir?’

‘Me? No,’ he chuckled, ‘I am hardly built for it.’

‘Do not be so sure. The man who nearly killed me was not much taller than you. The Voltigeurs were chosen because they were small, fast, agile and lethal. I remember the little bugger charging on to my bayonet and being lifted clear of the ground, yet managing to thrust his sword into my guts as he died. I dreamed about him for many a year, and woke in terror.’

‘Do you still?’

‘I dream of him, but the horror has gone. Instead I am sorry for him, for I have awakened every morning since my recovery but he never did.

‘Being a common foot soldier introduces you to many things, sir,’ he said, ‘and chief among them is cynicism; you are prepared to doubt the motives of any man and the word of most. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, I do. You are telling me you considered the possibility that Mr McGill and his son might have been lying.’

Mathew nodded. ‘I did, briefly. But David was one of those men whose word I would not have doubted, and even if he had not been, the question of motive remained. He gave Gregor Cleland a beating for whipping his son, of that there is no doubt. If something similar happened to your daughter and you saw it, you would react in exactly the same way. Am I correct?’

‘Probably to no great effect, but I imagine I would,’ Douglas conceded.

‘Right. But you would not have shot him for it, as Gavin and his women described? Nor would David, and why else would he? He had absolutely no reason to do so. Your case, based on Gavin’s statement, alleged that he had motive, but that was not true. There was no grudge, ever. In fact, the day David was dismissed from his position was one of the best of his life, for it meant that he was no longer able to resist the pressure I put on him to come and work for me, for nearly three times the wage. The truth was that Gregor did him a favour, and David and I often laughed about it.’

‘And I believed Gavin,’ the judge murmured, then paused. ‘But not just him, there were the ladies, and their evidence.’

‘Ah yes, Gregor’s fiancée, and her lady’s maid . . . who have never been seen since,’ he smiled, ‘not even, I suspect, in your sanatorium in the north of England.’

‘Hold up there, Mr Fleming,’ Douglas exclaimed. ‘I had a sworn statement from the physician in charge that Miss Smith and her maid were there and unable to leave because of emotional distress.’

‘You did, and young Mr Irvine obtained his name from the trial documents, and I sent people to find him. They are still trying. There is no sanatorium, and there never was. If you want to know the relationship between the brothers and the ladies, hark back to the folder you have just read and use your imagination.’

‘Can that be proved?’

‘Yes, but gentlewomen can fornicate too, so that of itself does not prove them liars. I need the pair before me to do that.’

‘Then I will get them,’ Douglas snapped angrily.

‘How can you?’ Mathew asked. ‘You sit on the highest Bench in the land. You can do nothing without being asked by the Lord Advocate.’

‘Then go to him.’

‘I could, but I do not need to, not yet. I am a magistrate and as such I am entitled to raise simple proceedings. I am after Miss Smith and Miss Stout . . . or whoever they really are . . . already, and I am probably better resourced for the task than Edward Cooper.’

‘And Gavin?’

The one eye darkened, making its neighbour seem even more ghostly. ‘He has more to lose than an advantageous marriage, my Lord, before the shackles are locked on to his wrists and ankles, and further to fall than a few feet to the end of a rope.’

‘Then good luck to you,’ Douglas declared. ‘If it comes to it, I think I will have Bellhouse try him.’ As Mathew smiled, he added, ‘You would not have a drink, Mr Fleming, but will you dine with me . . . you and the hefty minder you have stationed outside?’

‘That is kind of you, my Lord, but we cannot. There will be no supper for me tonight for I have another appointment, but if that goes the way I hope, I will fairly enjoy my breakfast.’